


Ghost in the Stars

by Allygryx



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: But he's been through a lot, Competent Zim (Invader Zim), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Found Family Dynamics, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Membrane family, Professor Membrane works to be better, Protective Professor Membrane, ZADF, ZaGf, Zim tries to understand his place in the world, new alien species, space gets darker, the Membrane kids learn about where they came from
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allygryx/pseuds/Allygryx
Summary: The past comes back to haunt Professor Membrane, triggering a chain of events that neither he nor his kids are prepared for.  Either they work together to heal, or they embark on a journey they may never recover from.And with Zim in the picture, it could go either way.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 191





	1. Little Bug

Dib was thankful that tonight was a cooler night. Lying in bed, the boy watched the blinds of his open window waver with the breeze. He could hear the leaves outside whisper their dehydrated song, rustling alongside the faint pulse of crickets chirping in the bushes below.

Even the distant howl of a police siren did little to keep the boy from relaxing. Maybe he’d get a decent night’s sleep for once.

Dib pulled off his glasses and rested them on the shelf near his head. He let his eyes fall closed as he tried to think of calming things. Things like a quiet day on the couch. The faint beeps and clicks of Gaz’s Game Slave. Dad turning pages in a new science journal, sitting in his armchair, actually spending time upstairs with his kids than downstairs in his lab. Peacefulness. Normalcy.

Family.

Dib had felt his body drift into slumber when a noise outside his room jolted his nerves back to awareness. He groaned and sat up. Someone was walking down the stairs. He glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand — past 1am. He didn’t remember going to bed  _ that _ late…

Somehow he could still hear the feet shuffling downstairs towards the kitchen. A prickly feeling suddenly got the hairs on the back of his neck to rise in sudden chills. Dib crawled out of bed and walked towards his doorway, peeking down the hall.

A faint light switched on at the bottom floor. Probably the kitchen. He knew it wasn’t Clembrane - the creature had since made its home in Membrane Labs downtown. Turns out an overtly cheerful clone with super strength did extremely well in a facility full of scientists, averse to manual labor as they were...

Nervous, but curious, Dib stepped lightly down the stairs. He wasn’t immediately certain, but the stairwell felt larger as he descended. Shadows from the distant kitchen light were causing the walls to appear taller to him. Were they...farther away too?

Dib nearly tripped as he made it to the last stair. Confused, he looked back at the final step. Nope. The step was the same height as always. A little taller than his short knees, but he was proud he could climb them up and down by himself. 

“Oh, little Dib. Did I wake you?” 

Dib turned to look up at the source of the voice. He found himself getting hefted up into someone’s arms. “I’m sorry,” the voice was gentle, quiet. The arms brought him close. He felt a familiar warmth as they wrapped around him in a soft embrace.

“Bad dream, mama,” he said. He looked up into his mother’s eyes, bright and green and loving. He leaned his head against her chest, felt her hand gently pat his back in a steady rhythm. 

“Another nightmare?” she whispered. “Poor little bug. You’re too young to have so many.”

“Can I sleep with you and papa?” 

Dib’s mother rubbed his back and placed him down onto his feet. “Sure. Wait for me up the stairs. Just getting myself some water.”

Dib clutched the handrail and started to make his way back up. He could hear the rush of water from the faucet as he climbed step after step; then his mother’s slippered feet shuffling back.

Towards the top of the stairs, he waited.

And waited.

His mother’s footsteps kept shuffling along.

Dib turned to look down towards the kitchen again. 

He sucked in a deep breath. The light was out this time.  _ Everything _ seemed out down there. No street light from the windows, no glow of the moon. Just...blackness. And the faint pinpricks of stars smattered against pitch black walls. 

Stars?

Dib turned fully to face the night sky that yawned before him. It was still, and cold. Vast.

_ Tap _

The sound made him jump. “Mama?” Dib said, loudly.

_ Tap, tap _

He started to shiver. “Mama…” 

He suddenly felt courage come back when he saw his mother again, at the bottom of the stairs. Her long plum-colored hair seemed to mesh with the night around her; an inky, starry veil of eternity. 

Her green eyes looked up at him. They seemed sad.

_ Tap _

“Little bug,” she said to Dib. It was a whisper.

_ Tap _

She was getting smaller—no—farther away from him.

“Mama!”

_ Tap, tap _

He could see her mouth open to speak, but she was too far away for him to hear. Dib scrambled back down the stairs, but the blacker they got, the harder it was for him to keep balanced. One more step; he started to fall.

The blackness and the stars surrounded him completely now. Dib cried out again. He could feel the noise churn in his lungs, but his ears seemed clogged by the surrounding dark. Everything was silent, dead. Everywhere.

_ Tap _

_ Mama… _

“OH for the love of-”

Dib shot up from his bed, sucking in air like he’d nearly drowned. As he exhaled, his mind quickly began to reorient itself.  _ Bad dream _ . 

The boy shakily felt his face. He wasn’t a toddler anymore. He was in his bed, walls were sized as they were supposed to, things felt normal. 

Just another bad dream...

_ TAP _

Dib started, head darting to a window in his room.

“A-HA!” the voice came from the yard below. Dib stood on his bed and moved the blinds of the window he’d opened. He poked his head outside and looked down.

Zim was standing in the grass, one leg up, and an arm poised behind himself as if ready for a pitch. The alien held a rock the size of a grapefruit in his hand. Dib glanced at the sides of his window, noticed the splash of dust and dirt that wasn’t there during the day. Directly below was a smattering of pebbles that someone had obviously been throwing at the house...

“Zim!” Dib hissed. He watched the eerie white sheen of the irken’s false eyes move to acknowledge him, still aimed to hurl a giant rock at his window.

The alien let the stone fall out of his hand and turned his head to look up at Dib. “Ah! Dib!” Zim’s voice practically echoed around the block. “Come down here!”

Dib found himself flinching and gritting his teeth as Zim finished his demand. He stretched out one pointed finger from his window—a universal gesture to ‘wait a minute’.

With quiet skill, the boy slipped on his glasses, threw on his black duster coat, and grabbed his boots. He tiptoed his way to the stairs and halted. 

He looked towards the bottom—the lightless corridor to the kitchen remained just that. Lightless. Dib took an uneasy breath and made his way down the stairs as swiftly as possible, then paused to put on his boots.

The first floor of the house remained still and quiet. A faint light could be seen under the doorway to his dad’s lab—working late again on something or other. Dib walked past the door and opened the side entrance to the cold, night air. He looked towards the street as a car passed by at the corner; he closed the door behind him with gentle movements.

Dib could hear the rapid footsteps of Zim crunch through the grass next to him. He turned to meet the alien’s determined gaze, bulbous eyes practically pressed into the boy’s glasses. 

Zim pulled away, then gestured for Dib to follow. They made their way to the sidewalk, and Dib looked around for any signs of outside notice. 

“Where are we going, Zim,” Dib whispered as he picked up the pace behind his Irken neighbor. Zim could definitely power walk when he wanted to.

“To my house! Where else?” Zim snapped, a little louder than Dib was comfortable with after midnight.

As they fully left the Membrane property, Dib heard a window open from the second floor. He glanced back and saw his sister looking down at them. He managed a quick shrug at her before rushing to catch up to Zim.

“Okay,” Dib responded quizzically, “Why?”

“You’ll see.”

Were it a year ago—heck, a few  _ months _ ago, Dib wouldn’t have even entertained the thought of following Zim somewhere if asked. No doubt the alien would have likely been plotting some gruesome torture or trap for the boy.

But now, things were different. The whole world was different. Zim’s world was different. Now that his leadership was effectively destroyed...

Wordlessly, Zim guided the boy into his house, past the living room and into the kitchen. Dib glanced at GIR slouched on the sofa, eyes glued to the TV which blared some nighttime trash the robot usually favored.

“Oh, your lab,” Dib mused as Zim stopped in front of a garbage can. The alien shot a glance at his neighbor, but then quickly reminded himself that there was much more Dib knew about his secret base than he had ever been happy with. And it didn’t make it much of a secret anymore. 

Zim sighed begrudgingly and stepped into the metal trash bin. His PAK clicked with activity as the spindly arms erupted forth. Two angled their way towards Dib and lifted the boy up by his underarms. Dib’s first instinct was to struggle, but the arms were stronger than they looked, and Dib felt himself dropping downwards into the chute faster than he could gain a decent grip on his handlers.

“Two nights ago my transmissions tower received a signal from beyond the perimeter of this star system,” Zim began. He stood at attention as the elevator sent both bodies into the earth, Dib dangling like laundry above him.

“ _ Far _ beyond this star system,” Zim added. The elevator stopped at the bottom of the shaft, and the PAK arms clicked and deposited Dib briskly onto the metal floor. He adjusted his coat and rushed after Zim, who resumed his hurried walk down the alien hallway.

Part of Dib still felt nervous in these small and outlandish halls. Black wire and neon lights formed unusual patterns in his periphery as he rushed by. But rather than feel anxious that he was willingly in his former enemy’s HQ, the boy felt anxious for another reason. 

“Don’t you intercept…signals from beyond this system all the time?” Dib followed Zim into one of the main rooms of his lab—a massive cavern covered in screens, status lights, and alien consoles. Irken script flowed across walls in glaring red and violet, and eerie electric hums pulsed in what felt like the back of Dib’s head. 

“This was  _ beyond _ , beyond…” the alien answered cryptically. “And I didn’t ‘intercept’ this one. It was sent directly to my tower’s galactic coordinates.” 

Zim popped off his disguise hair and eyes and jumped into a chair that lay in front of one of the larger screens in the room. The screen itself was paused on…something, and as Zim began typing on a set of Irken keys, the image started to move. For a moment, Dib worried that the Irken had regained contact with the Tallest somehow, and just brought him down here to gloat.

But Zim’s voice sounded slightly uncertain as he continued. “It came from beyond this system, beyond this arm of the galaxy,  _ beyond _ even the Irken Empire’s perimeter of known space...”

Dib frowned, and watched Zim work. “Okay, but why-“

“-just hang on, Dib…boy!” Zim interrupted. Dib shut his mouth. At least the Irken was  _ trying _ to avoid the insults.

“The signal from two days ago…was a complex video transmission,” Zim continued. “It took my computer until this morning to rearrange the data to an appropriate frequency, as well as separate associated audio from normal space…junk.”

Dib just looked up at the screen as the image continued to move and flicker. His eyes tried to make out shapes, colors,  _ something _ , but to no avail.

Zim continued, “And it took me the rest of today to decide  _ you _ needed to see it.”

Dib swallowed, glanced uncertainly at the back of the alien's chair. Was this why Zim was acting so weird at school earlier?

High-pitched tones and the clicks of many different buttons erupted from where Zim was working, and the image on the screen began to move faster. Dib watched as the image jerked and shifted, catching features that he  _ thought _ were something, but could never be certain. Static flashed across the lenses of his glasses, the humming in the back of his head seemed to pulse with a bit more intensity. His eyes strained, and Dib lifted his glasses to rub the inner corners of his eyes.

“What are you guys watching?”

Both Dib and Zim jumped from where they were, like a pair of startled cats.

“Gaz!” Dib adjusted his glasses again and looked at his younger sister. Zim stood on the seat of his chair and glared over the back. If he had hackles, they would be raised.

“Take it easy,” Gaz breathed, nonchalant. “The dog let me in.”

“Hellooo!” GIR peered out from behind the girl and waved.

Dib’s shoulders relaxed, and he looked back at Zim. Surprisingly, the alien’s once icy glare changed into a look of thoughtfulness.

“Actually,” Zim turned to return to his work at the console. “She might as well see too…” Gaz walked up to stand next to her brother, who glanced at her nervously.

She opened her mouth to whisper a rebuke at Dib for sneaking out so late, but was interrupted.

The lab’s speaker system beeped and crackled with what sounded like radio searching. It was dissonant, loud. But then, just as suddenly, some clarity.

“- _ ess _ … _ ane _ …” came a cracked voice.  _ “...eight...taken…” _

Dib started, but his eyes were still glued to the screen. Gaz looked away from her brother and then up at the monitor as well. 

“… _ hope… _ ”

The voice sounded undoubtedly human, female. Adult? Both kids’ eyes widened as the voice continued with indiscernible syllables, but the image on the screen flashed with a second of something. A second of violet, a spark of green, movement of features arranged like-

-a human face?

Maybe? 

Gaz wanted to say something, to break the seriousness in the room, so much of it pouring from the frozen stance of her brother. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth. 

That second of violet. It moved across the screen again, this time for a second longer. Both kids could see that the color was more of a pale lavender. It flowed like a tuft of grass, fur. Hair.

“Zim,” Dib breathed, finally.

The alien’s hand shot up to stop him. “Just, watch it again! And LISTEN.” Zim fiddled with the controls in front of him with frustration, even going so far as to stand on his seat as he adjusted knobs and flipped switches seemingly at random.

All the while, Dib and Gaz looked up at the screen, their faces awash in the console’s piercing white static. Both siblings  _ thought  _ they heard and saw the same thing, but the feed was so jumbled and broken that it was hard for either to say.

Zim cursed under his breath a few more times before a swift ‘a-ha!’ echoed and he landed roughly back into his chair. With a dramatic swagger, Zim lifted his hand and then brought it down forcefully onto a green play button.

The same static as before began to shift and dance onscreen. Dib, Gaz, and Zim watched the feed with rapt attention, unblinking, and after a few more heartfelt seconds, saw the monitor present its contents once again.

What showed first was the unmistakable green face of an Irken, narrow indigo eyes glaring intently at the viewers. The picture itself still wasn’t the best, but even with the distortions passing over the screen and an occasional flicker, everyone in the lab knew who that was.

“Tak…” Dib whispered.

_ “Okay, I th-...I got it ...-orking,”  _ the Irken on the other side of screen gestured to someone out of view. Her voice, however broken up by static, confirmed her identity. This was indeed the wannabe invader Tak from some time ago, who had harbored a vicious grudge against Zim.

Tak scooted off-screen to let her unseen companion come into view. “ _ Remember, _ ” her voice instructed the other, “ _ Be quick. ...-ot much time... _ ”

Dib’s eyes widened slowly as Tak’s “partner” was brought into focus. The pale lavender hair, cut just barely around the ears, framed a face that was unambiguously human. Even with the static, the image’s blurred quality, the confusion and apprehension sitting uncomfortably in his stomach, Dib felt a pang of familiarity in his chest. Like a long buried lump of emptiness suddenly transforming.

“Dib,” Gaz muttered, “Is...I mean that sort of looks like-“

“-mom...” he finished.


	2. A New Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously - Zim shares an unexpected discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously needed a first name for Prof Membrane, but having it actually BE "Professor" was a tad ridiculous for this AU, so his first name is just Fess! FYI

_ “My name is ...laire Membra...“  _ A series of rough distortions broke apart her voice. “ _ Eight...ago, on the night of...eastern...hills, I was taken by...” _

More static in the audio and on screen rendered the woman silent and broken again. Dib gritted his teeth, but said nothing. __

_ “I’m...arried to Fess Membrane...ounder of...“  _ The audio cut out again, the image of the woman morphed and then regulated itself once more.

_ ”We have two...Dib...Gaz, born two years apart-” _

A new sound reverberated from the video feed, causing the woman to turn her head quickly.

_ “Shi...coming back!”  _ Tak’s voice hissed from off screen.  _ “Hurry!” _

Claire looked back at the screen, determined expression suddenly marred by urgency.  _ “Fess...kids,”  _ More infuriating static, more forced silence. The spliced image moved jerkily now.  _ “I hope…...okay. But I don’t know for... I love y-” _

A new sound burst from the video feed, like the rough screech of steel on concrete. It was the sound of movement, people scrambling, large objects crashing into each other. The viewers thought — hoped — the video was almost over when the strangely patterned noise of some raspy, indecipherable alien language barked through the speakers.

The woman’s face disappeared from view, revealing grey black walls and eerie yellow lights. Mercifully, the unsettling sounds stopped as the large screen tore its way back into constant static, like a piece of paper ripping itself apart. Zim pressed another button and the monitor switched off. He swiveled his chair around to face his audience.

“As I said, the coordinates of this message point to a region of the galaxy untouched by the Irken Empire. How Tak made it out there, I don’t know.”

Zim looked at both Dib and Gaz expectantly, but got enough of a hint from their tired, yet undoubtedly shocked faces. “Who this ‘Laire’ human is, I also don’t know-”

“-Claire,” Dib said finally. “Our mom’s name was Claire.”

“Was?” Zim said, curious.

“She died,” Dib answered. “I guess…”

Gaz said nothing. Zim looked on with one brow arched. “Dib speaks in uncertainties.” 

“Because I don’t remember,” he replied. “I was five when it happened.”

“When  _ what _ happened?”

“When...she didn’t come home anymore,” Dib clarified.

The boy looked away from Zim’s unconvinced stare and towards Gaz. A shadow seemed to rest over her eyes. That happened when she was despondent.

“Gaz was...three I think,” he added. He looked back at the Irken. “We were basically smeets, Zim.”

“Smeets who remember that face, yes?” Zim mused, pointing back at the now-black screen. ”Perhaps smeets who know why that face is broadcasting from across the galaxy? Yes? And with  _ Tak  _ of all Irkens??”

Dib frowned. “I said I don’t know, Zim. I don’t remember what happened. She’s just...not around anymore.”

“Dead,” Gaz reminded him. “Or so dad’s said…”

Dib’s shoulders slumped and he looked back at his sister. “Well, maybe...not.” He gestured timidly towards the screen that had moments ago showed them otherwise. 

Gaz was quiet for a moment, contemplating. Her head shook slowly with disbelief. “I...don’t remember mom at all. But it’s like I  _ knew  _ that face was her’s. This is weird.”

Dib frowned, but said nothing. They all remained in contemplative silence for a moment longer, though GIR was somewhere knocking things over from the sounds they heard down a hall.

Finally, Zim hopped from his chair and stood in front of Gaz and Dib. He looked between them with thoughtful red eyes. 

“‘Weird’,” he quoted Gaz, “was my receiving this message in the first place. Weird was seeing a human on the other end with Tak. Weirder still, is your reactions to this message. This female speaks your names, even looks like Gaz-sister. And yet, you both look at her as if she shouldn’t be there?” 

“She shouldn’t be  _ anywhere _ ,” Dib said tiredly, “She’s supposed to be  _ dead _ .” Dib shifted his feet in discomfort. He didn’t like talking about how dead his mom was. “This really isn’t some weird Irken trick of yours, Zim? You didn’t pull something from my brain again and project it on-screen?”

The Irken’s antennae twitched with offense. “This is no trick of Zim! This transmission is as baffling to me as it is to you! Maybe more so! Tak is my  _ enemy _ , remember?” Zim pointed with a strained arm at the kids. “And your what? Your  _ mom-thing _ ? Is allied with her!”

Zim clenched his teeth and stared at the two human children in front of him. He noticed how little they responded to his pointing and his outburst, either due to fatigue or confusion. His stiffened posture relaxed.

Dib clarified, “It’s just...we haven’t seen or heard of our mom for so long. To see her on  _ your _ Irken screen, with another alien-”

“-and  _ alive _ ...” Gaz added. 

Dib watched his sister, frowning. “It’s hard to believe, is all.” He looked sidelong at the range of the alien laboratory before him. He hated to admit to skepticism, but Dib didn’t know how else to react at the moment. Since he was a little boy he’d only had faint memories and occasional nightmares to remind him of his mother. They were pieces of a puzzle he thought he would never be able to complete. 

And having a father like his made it worse. Dib could count on one hand the times his dad had mentioned their mother; all of them a result of Dib or Gaz asking about her directly. 

_ What happened to her? _

_ Where is she? _

_ Why don’t you talk about her? _

_ Why? _

_ Why? _

_ Why... _

Dib remembered how each of those questions was answered. “She’s gone, son.” 

“She passed away.” 

“I can’t talk about it right now.” 

They’d even ask if there were just some more pictures of the woman that their dad could provide. But there appeared to be only a handful — showing their mother from afar, candidly looking away from the camera, as if a stranger. Distant and unknown. Unreachable. It was like their father had deliberately chosen those photos to separate the woman from the family as much as possible. It was the most he could do without denying her existence entirely.

And yet, it still felt like she barely even existed. Dib could only imagine how much worse it was for Gaz, young as she had been when their mother “passed away”. Did his sister only have those grainy, indifferent photos to remember her mom by? 

The boy looked back at his sister, saw her same shadowy, crestfallen expression, and felt a pang of frustration. 

Dib could handle his dad denying Zim’s alien origins. He was used to his dad expressing only a minimal interest in the paranormal to feebly satisfy his son. Even the Florpus incident he’d handled with almost robotic acceptance — the professor didn’t deny the black hole happened, but in the end he focused more on the clean up and the PR nightmare, than how it actually came to be.

On the whole, Dib was used to his father’s often dismissive ways, his seeming lack of interest in the details that Dib tried to show him. He was used to the deflection and disappointment. 

But he knew his sister wasn’t. 

With Zim’s video, with this new piece of  _ proof, _ Dib was going to get some answers from his dad. Some  _ real _ answers. About mom. He looked to Zim with newfound purpose.

“Can I get a copy of that video?” he asked. Sure, there was a chance that Zim would refuse — claim some sort of super secret protocol to keep this all a super secret to analyse it further-

“Yeah ok,” the Irken responded matter-of-factly. He grabbed a holopad from atop his console, pressed a few buttons on it, and then tossed it towards Dib like a frisbee. 

Startled by Zim’s unexpected agreement, Dib almost didn’t catch the device. He clasped it in his arms in a frantic hug before holding it out in his hands. It was a lightweight, definitely Irken-designed rectangle. He’d seen similar gadgets in Zim’s employ before. Looking at the buttons, Dib recognized a familiar arrangement to other Irken screens he’d messed with. He pressed what looked like a play button.

His mother’s face flashed on the small screen and the broken audio of her voice filled his ears again. Dib sighed as a wave of nostalgia came over him — purposeful, but ultimately insubstantial. It was just a choppy voice. A blurry face.

_ Little bug… _

The boy looked at Gaz, determination in his eyes. “I need to show this to dad,” he informed, trying to sound as resolute as he could in case his sister protested.

But the girl just shrugged. “Good luck,” she mumbled. Her voice seemed softer than usual. Subdued. Now Dib almost wished she had argued with him.

He looked back at Zim. “You don’t mind, do you? That I show this to my dad?”

The Irken eyed Dib with a strange expression — incredulous that his former enemy would ask permission like that. Zim blinked. “I...yes. You may. You have Zi- MY permission!”

Dib nodded to Zim in thanks. He looked down at the device once more, and was reminded of something.

“There was another voice in there too,” Dib added. “Towards the end of the tape.”

Zim nodded and glanced back at the wall covered in monitors. His eyes narrowed. “Yes, but it’s a tongue I don’t recognize. Irken encyclopedias are coming up with nothing as well, but there appears to be enough speech in there that my computer  _ might  _ be able to piece the syntax and inflections together and come up with something.” He tapped a few buttons on the console, which responded with singsong beeps. “Whatever it is, though, it sounds hostile.”

“You think they are in trouble, huh?” Gaz asked quietly. Both Dib and Zim looked at her. 

“My determination is purely contextual,” Zim answered, turning back to his screens. “Tak and Claire don’t appear to be in a strictly benign environment, and the level of duress and haste they demonstrated indicates some level of danger.”

Zim hopped into his chair again and began typing away at a keyboard. A few smaller screens blinked on and immediately started scrolling away with a mass of data and Irken calculations. A few moments passed when, from behind the chair, the kids could see the Irken’s antennae nod with sudden optimism. 

“Yes,” Zim said, “I think there is enough data here for me to run a translation script on that voice. It will take some time, though.”

Dib tilted his head. “Do you think you can determine what it is? The speaker? And where exactly they are?”

The Irken shrugged. “The speaker’s origin — perhaps. Likely not exact species, but possible evolutionary tangents and such could be collected.” Zim rubbed the point of his chin in thought. “As for an exact location — could be tricky. The signal came from so far away, it’s a miracle it got here at all. I  _ assume _ Tak was using the aid of some native technology to send the message. The equipment we had…’left’ her with would not be capable of this sort of signal.”

“If you were able to pinpoint the location,” Gaz said, “is there a chance that…-” she breathed out a defeated sigh. “-no. Nevermind.”

Zim leaned from the side of his chair to glance at her with an arched brow. Dib bit his lip. He suspected what Gaz was getting at. If they managed to get a location, if they found exactly where mom was being held, if they could even travel that far in Tak or Zim’s ship, wouldn’t it be great if they could...get their mom back?

It was a lot of ‘if’s though.

Dib sighed and looked towards the laboratory exit. School was probably in only several hours. He and Gaz were going to be exhausted at sun up. But Dib still regarded breakfast with great anticipation. He looked down at Zim’s portable device again, and grew nervous. So much could be revealed with this video; or nothing at all. There would be no in between in this situation. 

“We should get going,” Dib said finally. He regarded Zim with a pensive look. He didn’t know if the Irken was doing all this out of boredom, or out of some newfound goodness in his heart. The video clean up, translating, speculating on its contents; all of it was effort that took Zim time and resources. 

A nagging feeling pressed in the back of Dib’s mind that there was perhaps more intrigue to this whole thing than Zim was letting on. But either out of sleepiness or the remains of adrenaline, Dib didn’t let the thought get to him. Not like it used to.

“Thanks, Zim,” Dib said hesitantly. “I don’t know why you’re doing all this. Not exactly. But…” he wanted to say more; to express just how much seeing this and seeing his mom again really meant to him. “...yeah.”

He turned away and followed Gaz out of the lab.

Zim looked on for a few moments until the human kids were out of view. Such strange emotions and thoughts and behaviors came from humans when they weren’t trying to kill or be killed. All Zim did was show them a video of someone who kind of looked like Gaz and Dib. And also knew their names.

And also worked with Tak. 

Zim speculated that there was a relationship of necessity involved there. If he was right and both Tak and the mom-thing — Claire — were under duress, then it was entirely possible they were working together because they had no choice.

But aside from Claire wanting to reach home, why would Tak agree to send the message to Zim? Was there indeed a trap underlying all of this? Was Tak really that clever? Or was she that desperate to reach some Irken,  _ any _ Irken to get her out of there?

Was Zim really the best she could do? 

Thoughts of the Florpus disaster and the ensuing chaos afterwards made Zim grumble to himself. Tak probably, quite literally, could find no other Irken to try and reach. Her unauthorized journey for revenge effectively blacklisted her from all of Irk, and the armada…

Well...

Zim sucked in a frustrated breath. How was he supposed to know that the Tallest would send the  _ entire Irken command fleet  _ into the black hole? How was he supposed to know that moving Urth would result in him annihilating his entire leadership, and send Irken society reeling into a civil war from which it would never recover?

How?

As if on cue, GIR came stumbling into the room. The robot giggled to itself like a smeet, shaking Zim out of his growing sense of self-condemnation. He shook his head and looked back at the computer screens before him. The strings of data and ever-shifting figures worked in tandem across several monitors, dissecting the audio stream of the video’s strange alien voice. 

Zim watched as his computer worked silently on its new puzzle, determined to solve  _ something _ because it knew nothing else. And for the time being, Zim was content with this strange, novel little mystery.  



	3. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously - Zim provides evidence. The siblings determine to take a risk with their dad.

Dib’s eyes stung a little when he awoke, dry as they were from a lack of adequate sleep. He sat up with a groan and stretched a floppy arm towards the shelf holding his glasses. Oddly, they were not where he expected. The boy turned to look at the shelf and realized that his view of the wall was unusually clear and crisp. Immediately, he felt the soreness of his nose and ears as they adjusted to having glasses attached to them all night.

With a few more lumbering groans, Dib slid out of bed and got dressed. He reached for his backpack, hanging on the back of his desk chair, and his tired eyes met the sheen of the device Zim had given him a few hours earlier. 

The boy froze then, staring at the blank tablet with a mix of anticipation and worry. He figured he should bring the discovery to his dad this morning. Before he went to school and had enough time to talk himself out of it. 

Gingerly, Dib grabbed the device and fit it under his arm. As he slowly shuffled downstairs, he could smell the familiar aromas of toast and eggs getting stronger. A faint spice smell also grew apparent as he made his way around the corner, which Dib recognized to be his dad’s currently preferred brand of black tea. So his dad was here. Good.

“Morning, son,” came the familiar voice as Dib rounded the corner to the kitchen. The boy lifted his eyes and saw his dad’s face, at least part of it, from the opposite end of the table. In one gloved hand the man gripped a steaming mug, and in the other he held a manila folder bent open with a pile of papers as its contents. The professor seemed to be regarding the papers intently; at least, that’s where his goggled eyes were aimed.

Dib grunted a tired greeting and sat at the table. Gaz stumbled downstairs shortly after and seated herself as well. Dark circles rested under her eyes. She could barely keep her head up either.

Membrane lifted his gaze from the lab abstract he was reading to regard his children. They were strangely listless, which made him curious. “You both fall asleep too late or something?” he mused allowed.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Gaz muttered, side eyeing her brother. Dib took a bite out some toast, staring blankly across the table at nothing in particular. 

The professor flipped to another page in his report, skimming it as he remarked further. “I don’t recall hearing the TV or anything last night.”

“We weren’t home,” Dib responded dryly.

At that Membrane looked up from his paperwork and watched his son. “Weren’t home? How late was this?”

Dib sighed and swayed his head in exasperation before Gaz answered, “Around two...two thirty AM.”

Membrane placed the mug down onto the table and took in a deep breath. “That’s...pretty late for you two to be wandering around outside. Dib, this isn’t you dragging your sister on another midnight forest hunt again was-”

“-dad, what happened to mom?” Dib lifted his head from its hanging position as he interrupted.

The professor fell silent for a moment and blinked behind his goggles, caught off guard. Usually Dib would argue about the importance of his cryptid hunts, not change the subject entirely. Much less to  _ that _ subject.

“She ah…” Membrane swallowed, then sighed. “We’ve discussed this before, son. I’d rather not go over it aga-”

“What if I forgot?” Dib interrupted again.

“Dib,” Membrane’s voice was slightly more stern this time. “She passed away when you were five and Gaz was three. That’s all I-”

“-care to discuss I know.” Dib reached his hand out and dragged Zim’s device off of the table. He started operating the buttons as his dad stared at him with a frown visible from his brow. Gaz looked between her brother and father, quiet as a mouse. 

“It’s not that, Dib,” Membrane shook his head. He didn’t  _ want _ to obfuscate the truth from his own kids. “What happened is...complicated. It’s not something I can explain at breakfast.”

“You’ll  _ never _ explain it...”Dib’s voice sounded disappointed. Professor Membrane watched his son fidget, noticed his daughter staring at her plate with noticeable discomfort. Deep down, a voice in the man’s gut wanted so badly to be released — to unload years of bottled trauma and grief and honesty onto the table because he knew Dib and Gaz deserved at least that much. 

As a father, he  _ owed _ them that much.

But, yet again, Membrane’s fear was stronger. That usual flush of shame drained into his chest as he moved to stand from the table and leave this conversation unfinished as he usually did. 

Then a recorded voice started to sound from whatever it was Dib was operating. 

_ “My name is ...laire Membra...“  _

The scientist froze in his seat. A strange chill ran from his ears and down his back. Dib brought his device to the tabletop, held it up on the surface facing Membrane like a picture frame. 

_ “I was taken...” _ the voice continued but was muffled by static. Dib held the device upright and watched his dad’s head turn slowly to regard the picture. It was an odd movement — that slow turn — neither Dib nor Gaz had really seen their father move like that before. The siblings glanced at each other briefly before looking back at the professor. 

As the video continued to play, Membrane took a gloved hand and moved his goggles up from his eyes. Despite the dark circles underneath the man’s stare, he seemed transfixed by the images of the woman on the screen.

“ _ We have two...Dib...Gaz, born two years apart- _ ”, Claire’s voice was still broken up by the poor transmission, but it was still sonorously clear where it mattered. Membrane’s sense of scientific skepticism tried futilely to dissect that voice, that  _ face  _ into nothing — some bizarre hoax video that Dib got a hold of, unusually powerful government tech that...pulled memories and made them manifest through complex neural waves and encoding. Or something. Anything. 

“ _ I love y-“ _

Leaning forward in his seat, the professor reached his hand out slowly and took the device from Dib. He brought the screen closer to his face, illuminating his dark eyes and the troubled furrow in his brow. A slight twitch could be seen in the skin of his lower eyelids. Both Dib and Gaz’s concern grew.

“Dad…?” Gaz leaned over the table, towards the professor.

Membrane stood up then, slowly as if he was unsure of his own sense of balance. The video on screen concluded with that same disturbing, unknown alien voice. Dib watched worriedly while his father pressed a button on the device and the video started to play itself over again. 

“Dad,” Dib said with a slight tremor in his voice. “Is that actually...”

Professor Membrane started walking towards the entrance to his basement lab — a door adjacent to the kitchen table by a few wide strides. The siblings watched their father open the door wordlessly, still fixated on the video playing in his hands, and shut the door behind him. 

“...mom?” Dib finished under his breath.

Both Dib and Gaz lept from their seats and went to the basement door. Dib reached for the handle to try and open it, but it was locked from the inside. He took a step back and huffed a shaky breath through his nose. 

“I guess you can punch me now,” the boy said quietly, his shoulders slumped. 

But Gaz didn’t. She looked up at her brother next to her, knowing her bewilderment matched his. “I...don’t think you expected that to happen, either.”

Dib eyed her with a frown. “No, I didn’t.” He rubbed the back of his head with uncertainty. “I guess we can check on him after school?”

Gaz nodded and went to retrieve her backpack. Dib followed suit and both kids left their house in silence. It was going to be a long school day for the both of them.

* * *

Zim hurried off to class after having watched his computer work for hours through the identification and translation scripts necessary to parse that unknown voice. It was still working when he left, and he figured that it would take another Urth day or so to complete.

He had actually been so engrossed in the process that he didn’t even notice how late it got into the morning. As an Irken, he had little need for sleep, thus little affinity for the day and night schedules that humanity had built their entire civilization around. Granted, he  _ knew _ well enough how to read human clocks, and had navigated human society accurately enough that it had caused him little trouble. 

But now, Zim found himself tackling a new sort of problem.

Without “the Mission” hovering over his head constantly, without the thoughts of the armada and the Tallest and the needs of the Empire informing his every step, Zim became aware of a different type of anxiety. It wasn’t one of obligation and rules and loyalty; it was the anxiety of freedom. What was Zim without his mission; his directive as an Irken? What was Zim without the confines of all he had known? 

What was Zim...altogether? Deep down, was he just a series of wants and needs like any other sentient organism? Did he even  _ know _ how to handle such things without the oversight of the control brains?

_ Of course, Zim! That’s what you’re doing now, isn’t it? _

The Irken thought back to several nights before, when he’d initially received the alert from his base’s main transmission tower. Part of him hoped it was a distress signal from the Massive, but an even bigger part knew that such a thing was impossible. Instead, Zim was just curious. He didn’t  _ need _ to investigate the signal. By all accounts he could have just trashed the data and forgotten about it.

But what Zim  _ needed to do _ was not quite as important anymore. Day by day since the Florpus incident, the alien was finding it harder to work within the confines of what he needed to do versus what he wanted. 

Perhaps it was because what he wanted and needed blurred so often now. 

Zim didn’t  _ need  _ to unscramble that message from afar; he  _ wanted _ to. He didn’t  _ need _ to share the results with Dib and Gaz; he  _ wanted _ to. He didn’t  _ need _ to expend the power of a large number of CPUs to translate completely foreign and unknown languages. 

But he  _ wanted  _ to. He  _ wanted  _ that sense of purpose. He wanted something to do. He wanted to feel useful. To  _ help. _

To help…

Zim grumbled to himself then. The circuits in his PAK tingled slightly at his realization. It wasn’t just that he wanted at all; he wanted to  _ help _ .  _ Former enemies. _

Zim recalled the astonished looks on Dib and Gaz’s faces as he played that recording for them earlier. He thought of Dib’s stuttered word of thanks for giving him a copy of the video for his own uses. So much emotion for such simple gestures. So much implication from such a broken recording.

So much  _ influence _ he had, all because he did what he  _ wanted _ .

The Irken grinned at himself — it wasn’t a malicious expression, but it wasn’t exactly benevolent either. Instead, it was the grin of a creature suddenly satisfied with itself, realizing that there was an entire network of new possibilities and realities to consider. His mission was gone, his leadership was eradicated; but now Zim could make his own missions. Be his own leader.

Zim turned the corner into the main school building, still grinning. His PAK continued to rattle imperceptibly.

* * *

Early afternoon found the Membrane household quiet — sometimes this was anticipated, as the kids were at school and the professor was at his headquarters downtown. Other times it was quiet save for some noise coming from the basement — usually the churning of machinery or the acerbic cracks and hums of a welding torch as the professor worked on a private project at home.

This afternoon, however, the household was quiet for another reason. Professor Membrane was indeed home; in his basement workshop in fact. But since that morning at breakfast, he had retreated to the lower floor and sat in front of a closet — moving very little, saying nothing. On the floor beside him was the device Dib had procured, the recording it contained frozen on a particular frame.

Membrane didn’t remember how he did it — freeze the video on Claire’s face — but once he did he found himself staring at her for a long time. The image was low quality and it flickered unpredictably, but the professor knew that it was indeed his wife talking into the camera. He knew those forest green eyes sitting atop pointed cheekbones; soft, ovalescent face framed in faded purple hair; it had been a deep violet color once — like orchids, he used to tell her.

He thought of how long and full Claire’s hair was, how he enjoyed bundling it up into his hands and letting it fall through his fingers like silk. He remembered the large bun she’d tie her hair in and the way it bounced a little when she brought herself to her tiptoes to kiss him. 

He remembered the feel of her head laying against his chest, his hand stroking her hair quietly as they’d both drift off to sleep.

The professor had stared at the frozen image in his hands and remembered all these things, feeling them bundle up in his throat and knot together painfully. He stood before that unopened closet in a far corner of his lab, sat himself roughly on the floor in front of it and placed the device to his side.

Into the early afternoon, the man remained there vacantly, collapsed to his knees and paralyzed by memory.

_ Where are you, Claire? _

The question circled in his mind without relenting. It wasn’t something he had asked for a long time. A great many factors had forced him to tuck that mystery away and forget about it. Even his son and daughter couldn’t dig the curiosity out of him. Membrane had hoped that with time and diligent apathy, he’d eventually never ask himself that question again.

But hope was a fickle, inscrutable thing. One of the few elements that his vast scientific skills could never grasp. He could always anticipate varying outcomes in his research. He could always expect certain failures, successes, surprises in experiments. But with hope, there was no power in anticipation or expectation. There was no controlling what hope did to the mind. To  _ his _ mind. 

He just hoped. 

Sitting there on the floor of his basement, staring at a closet he hadn’t opened in years, the world-famous scientist found himself baffled by hope, and confounded by memory. He’d hoped —  _ prayed _ even — to never have to see reminders of that loss again, hear her voice in his ears, feel those pangs of longing he couldn’t fulfill. But his hope had betrayed him, and like that, his other senses moved in to overwhelm.

_ Where are you? _

The professor closed his eyes slowly, lids damp and his breath trembling as he sunk into darker memories, full of sights, sounds, and pain.

— 

_ The night was a bedlam of bright lights and unnatural, electrical noise. Professor Membrane foundered at the heat of an engine so large and powerful that the ground beneath him trembled and vibrated like thin glass. _

_ “Fess!” _

_ He heard her shouting his name amidst the wind and fire - frantic, pleading for him to help.  _

_ But, with his goggles on, the professor couldn’t see clearly like he usually did. Frustrated and panicked, he pulled them up onto his forehead, blinking through the blasts of hot air and dust that stung his eyes as he tried to walk forward. Blue-hot lights flashed in his periphery, and the screams of unknowable tech rang angrily in his ears. He faltered. Stumbled.  _

_ A warm, iron-rich taste filled his mouth then. The left side of his face felt as if it was on fire, and then gave way to a strange crackling sound in his ears as his flesh cooled and flaked into bloodied ash.  _

_ God, he was dying, wasn’t he? This was it. As violent and nonsensical as he’d dreaded. And yet, it was still somehow worse. _

_ “Fess!” came the frantic voice again. “Please! Where are you!?” _

_ “Claire!” He choked back blood in his throat. “I’m here!” he yelled into the chaos, hoping his voice could reach her. But the ground shook once more, dashing Membrane’s hopes of getting back to his feet and running towards her pleading voice. He heard the earth heave and the air constrict and roar as the ponderous thing — that machine — began to separate itself from the earth.  _

_ The professor watched helplessly as whatever it was ascended into the atmosphere, taking its lights and heat and noise with it. And  _ **_her_ ** _. Up and up it climbed, effortless and graceful. Through the agony, he lifted his head up and stared numbly while it became a dim pinprick in the night sky. _

_ And then, just like that, nothing. Gone. _

_ A ghost in the stars.  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Thank you so much for reading!


	4. High Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously - the Professor is shaken by a ghost from the past; Zim begins to realize a new sense of self

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks so much for reading! Comments, kudos, questions are always appreciated.

When they arrived home from school later that same day, Dib and Gaz found the basement door still locked. Neither had a good idea of what to make of that. Both knew they could probably knock the door down somehow, though it was likely that it would take more than undoing the hinges. 

Memories of the morning were still fresh in the siblings’ heads. Their father’s reaction was disturbingly uncharacteristic of him. Dib couldn’t shake the feeling that the video had triggered something long buried and harmful in his dad — something that he or Gaz didn’t fully understand or could hope to repair. What exactly happened to mom? Why did their dad sidestep the truth for so long, and hide himself away now that he was confronted with her face once more?

Gaz grumbled at the door, her hands balled into fists as she fought the temptation to pound on the barrier and scream. But in a strange way, she also felt bad for her dad — seeing the baffled look in his eyes, how he nervously reached for that device like it was a gift he didn’t deserve — she imagined any demands she tried to make of her father would just make it all worse. Whatever ‘it’ was...

“It’s like when he works downtown overnight,” Dib said, trying to normalize their situation. “He’ll...be around tomorrow. Hopefully.” He looked at Gaz, trying to seem confident, but his sister saw the uncertainty in his eyes. She didn’t believe that any more than he did. 

Dib’s shoulders slumped a little. He looked around the kitchen, untouched since morning. Their dad was relatively meticulous and clean, and were he in a normal state of mind the dishes in the sink would have been washed and the table tidied up. He apparently hadn’t left the basement all day.

“He has to come up to eat eventually...” Dib mused. He ran his hand over the eccentric cowlick of black hair that sat on his head, pushing it towards his skull and feeling it spring back into position as his arm dropped defeatedly to his side. Dib did that when he was thinking deeply, or getting worried. 

Gaz stared at the door for a few more quiet moments and then turned away, grumbling. She started clearing the table of the morning’s activities, moving dishes to the sink and tossing old toast and eggs into the trash. Dib watched her for a few moments before joining in the clean up. He kicked the footstool over to the sink and stood on it to start washing dishes, as he still wasn’t tall enough to reach over on his own.

Without talking, the two young siblings worked in tandem cleaning up the kitchen and rendering it spotless. They were concerned about their father, but years of learning to be self-sufficient left them fairly capable in managing without him. To Dib and Gaz, it just felt like another episode of their dad working late and away from home — by itself nothing for them to worry about. This was their normal. How it always was.

But they both knew something was different this time.

* * *

“GIR! Are you quite done with your dancing?!” Zim’s voice was shrill and annoyed, echoing through the surrounding corridors of his lab.

The little robot had been twirling and pirouetting on the lab’s main floor, smashing through a gauntlet of discarded metal lids and knick knacks that Zim had no further use for. GIR must have liked the noise, as he’d smash through an arrangement of trash and then rush to set it back up again. 

“GIR!” Zim barked.

The robot’s head sprung up from a heap of lab parts. “YES SIR!” he saluted, eyes flashing red and then back to blue.

The Irken’s eyes narrowed at GIR’s formality. He could never tell if the android did that through a fragment of actual, legitimate programming, or he was just being sarcastic. Nevertheless, Zim couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing with all that racket going on. He shot a pointed hand down the hall.

“Clean up this mess and then go back upstairs to watch for any intruders!” Zim ignored the childish whining that came from the SIR-unit and turned back to his consoles. The computer had finished its extensive analysis of the unknown language from that transmission, and he wanted to hear what it said; but more than that, what it actually was. 

He knew there would likely only be a few words to translate based on how briefly the speaker was heard, but the fact that extensive libraries of Irken knowledge hadn’t been able to identify the language right away left Zim on edge. He also knew he shouldn’t be surprised, seeing as the origin of the video was from a part of the galaxy never explored by the Empire.

Zim frowned to himself and pressed a button to initiate the computer’s report. Several screens in unison lit up, each showing different streams of code and analysis — down to the most minute of details that Zim was usually fond of. His eyes narrowed at the central screen, showing a copy of the original video. It was paused towards the end when the mystery voice was first heard.

The Irken pressed another button to play it.

 _“She’s here! With the Irken!”_ The original grunts and guttural noises were overlaid with the computerized translation. As Zim had expected, it was only a few words. But his eyes widened regardless. This foreign speaker knew that Tak was an Irken — sure, she may have divulged this information in captivity, but Zim was in no place to make assumptions on this...

“Computer!” Zim barked. Lights and a characteristic grunt of annoyance activated around the alien. “Show me the breakdowns of this translation and all related lexicons this was pulled from. We need to narrow down some sort of phonological origin. Irken databases HAVE to have something.”

The computer network grumbled again and the screens in front of Zim changed contents, flashing varying scripts, images, and symbols as it arranged the data for the alien to scrutinize. He saw mentions of a number of races he was already well aware of, presented in a broad spread of profiles and images that slowly narrowed down like the root network of a tree. 

Zim’s bright eyes followed the pathways of the roots intently — the computer’s research began broad of course, and then over hours it had slowly eliminated data that was deemed irrelevant, redundant, incomplete. The roots went from a complex cloud of many branches down to the few, lonesome strands at the bottom of the screen, where the computer had completed its work.

The Irken stepped closer to the monitors, looked at the trail of data and down to the one, remaining point that gave the computer the last bits it needed to translate that bestial voice.

_Data Source: Far Rim - ID:00000142//level.unknown.restricted_

_._

_._

_._

_Species: unknown_

_Family Lexicon: unknown_

_Closest analog: helconidae_

“Helconid…” Zim said under his breath. “Where have I heard that word before…” The Irken worked at the console, pulling up new searches and streams of information as he dug in. After some muttering and typing in silence, Zim pulled up documentation from the Irken Empire’s historical records — so old that much of what was being described within had been cataloged into myth.

And there it was — “Helconid” — large, arthropodal, sentient, spacefaring. Nothing unusual or threatening there...

Zim scanned the records further, clicking through several pages of historical accounts and discredited hearsay. He saw more descriptors for the Helconid — aggressive, highly intelligent, ruthless, advanced. They had been encountered once by Irken explorers long ago, during the Empire’s infancy. Back then, Irk’s flailing, larval armada was barely a navy, but it had been enough to build an all-conquering tyranny upon nonetheless. 

Apparently, though, the fledgling empire had almost been snuffed out — a chance encounter with the “Helconid swarm”, as the documents so aptly called it — had caused the armada to retreat into safer territory for what looked to be quite a while. Documents seemed to refer to this time as ‘Irk’s Dark Age’. 

Zim scratched at his chin, puzzled. These Helconid were apparently responsible for a very ancient, very tumultuous time in his kind’s history. Curiosity urged him to research more, but another display caught his eye.

The original transmission that had started this mess was paused on-screen amidst a few lines of information in flashing Irken script. Zim brought the monitor closer and read it.

 _Trace data received...return signal from base tower (A.0001) sent_

The Irken felt an uncomfortable current in his PAK. It happened whenever his senses picked up something particularly ominous. 

“Trace data from what?” Zim said aloud.

“Exact origins unknown,” the computer answered. “But the trajectory appears to be identical to the transmission from two days ago. Answer signal has been automatically sent, per your network settings.”

Zim’s eyes widened. “Shut off that tower’s automated scripts. Shut it off on all towers! How long ago was the trace answered?”

“Two hours.”

The Irken grinded his teeth in anticipation. He couldn’t stop the motion. Someone or something had turned its unknown gaze towards where Tak’s transmission had been sent. And Zim had answered back.

“Computer!”

Another choice grumble.

“Put the base on high alert,” Zim commanded. “I want all other processes to go dark save for detecting any outside activity approaching this star system.”

Zim stood in his lab for a few more moments, watching the computer do as it was told. His teeth grinding stopped, but the uneasy feeling in his PAK did not.

* * *

The next day for the Membrane siblings saw the same situation as the night before. The door to their father’s lab remained sealed and locked, and nothing in the immediate vicinity had been moved to signify that the professor may have been about.

Both Gaz and Dib shouted for their father through the thick door, trying to listen for any signs of life on the other side. Defeated, they both relented and left for the final school day that week, their anxiety at the man’s state growing ever more intense and hopeless.

Their walk home later that afternoon was somber and thoughtful for both kids — that is, until Zim caught up with them.

“You two!” he hissed. “I’ve completed the translation.”

They all rounded a corner and stopped in a huddle as Zim pulled out a small device from his PAK. It was similar to the one Zim had loaned the kids the other night. He pressed a button and produced the video on a holographic screen between them, paused towards the end of the transmission where the mystery speaker was.

“ _She’s here! With the Irken!”_

The video rewound and replayed the clip several times.

“That’s it, huh?” Gaz said quietly.

Dib bit his lip, thoughtful. “Whoever they are, they know what an Irken is…”

Zim nodded, placing the device back into his PAK. “Could be that Tak told them, or there’s more to these jailors than what I’ve been able to dig up. However, I _have_ been able to dig up quite a bit.” 

The trio continued walking down the street now, closely together. Dib had to slow his gait slightly because his legs were a little longer than both Gaz and Zim. 

The siblings listened as Zim continued. “It’s only a few words,” Zim crossed his arms, “but it was enough for my computer to determine approximate origins. A race known as the Helconid — my kind have only encountered them once before, in our ancient past. They have a storied and...bloody reputation.”

Suddenly fascinated, Dib was about to press for more information when Zim’s antennae twitched oddly, as if apprehensive.

“There is...also something else,” Zim clicked his claws together, brow furrowed.

Dib and Gaz looked at the Irken quizzically, waiting for him to elaborate. Zim’s eyes shifted between the two.

“The night the transmission came to me,” Zim continued, “It was traced.”

“Traced?” Dib’s voice was uneasy. “By who? How?”

“I don’t...know,” Zim answered. “But remember I told you Tak didn’t have the means to send that video with the junk she escaped in. She had to have used some help up there, wherever ‘there’ is.”

Everyone was quiet again, turning another corner as they wandered deeper into the suburbs during that late afternoon. Gaz looked down at her feet as she walked, frowning to herself. Dib’s mind was racing.

“What does this mean, then?” he asked. “Are we in danger?”

Zim’s antennae twitched, wondering at that too. “It was just a trace. Many stellar communications have such codes programmed automatically to keep track of things.”

Dib’s eyes narrowed, suspecting more. “That’s not what I asked.”

The Irken shot him an irritated look. “It could very well be that whatever Tak used to send the signal was disregarded and ignored. It could also be that _whatever else_ is up there followed that signal, and now knows exactly where we are.”

Zim felt the nerves on his spine, connected to his PAK, flutter with anticipation. _You forgot to mention the part where your tower answered BACK._

“That’s not important!” Zim snapped. His eyes widened when he realized he had said that out loud. Both kids were looking at him in confusion.

“Er...whether we are ‘in danger’ or not is not important,” Zim clarified. “What matters right now is finding out more about these Helconid.” 

“And if they’re coming here.” Dib’s added. 

Zim grumbled to himself. “Indeed. Which is what I’ll be determining. And that reminds me — have you gleaned any answers from your dad-unit on why your mom is there?”

Dib gritted his teeth. He heard Gaz suck in an uneasy breath. 

“Not really,” the boy answered. “There was ah...something came up. I’ll see what I can find out this weekend and let you know.”

The disguised alien nodded dutifully at him as they continued walking, eventually reaching the point where they all departed to their respective houses. Dib could hear the unsettling robotic voices of Zim’s “parents” welcoming him home, loud as they were from afar, and suppressed a shudder. 

Dib and Gaz stood at their front door for a few heartfelt seconds, prepared for more disappointment. Was their dad planning on staying downstairs, silent and isolated, for the whole weekend? Longer? Was he planning something even worse? 

Dib took initiative and unlocked the door to walk inside. “Dad?” he called. 

Nothing. 

Gaz dropped her backpack at the door and wandered into the kitchen. “Dad?” A few more seconds of silence followed. 

“Hey, Dib!” Gaz shouted.

The boy removed his back pack and rushed to the kitchen. Gaz stood in front of the basement door, now hanging ajar. They both looked down the stairs, catching sight of the dim lights that illuminated the basement beyond. Their dad still didn’t answer them — was he even home? 

Together Dib and Gaz ventured slowly down the stairs into their father’s at-home laboratory, nervous and eager at the same time. Dib thought of the video of his mother again, thought of his dad’s strangely desolate stare when he took Zim’s device and locked himself down here. He could hear Gaz’s tentative steps behind him, then stopped with her at the foot of the stairwell.

An odd sight lay before them, strewn across the concrete floor. Hundreds of photographs littered the ground, varying in size, some framed, others seemingly arranged in lines as if sequential. Dotted among them were small disks and cassettes, each labelled in different handwriting — _Gaz 1st BDay; Dib and Gaz #5; Memb. XMas Trip; Camping Jun. 03; HIDE THIS LOL_ — among others.

Several large photo albums lay on the ground as well, opened with pages emptied and set aside. A closet door in the corner to their left had been left opened — boxes covered in dust and odd pieces of what looked to be art projects, college memorabilia, and the like were pulled out and rifled through.

“So that’s what was in that closet,” Gaz muttered. She walked carefully into the sea of photos, head bent to look at the images in detail. 

Gaz stopped in the middle of the arrangement as if catching sight of something in particular. The girl bent low and picked up a photo and brought it closer to her eyes. 

The photograph was a picture of herself as an infant, cradled snugly in the arms of a woman with violet hair and a warm, crooked smile. She was beautiful, serene — she gazed down at her child with a love that Gaz suddenly felt a painful longing for, and knew exactly why.

“These are all pictures of mom,” Dib said in bewilderment. He crouched on the edge of the scattered memories, picking up a handful of pictures and shuffling through them. “And us. And dad.” 

Gaz was silent, still looking at the photo of her infant self being held by her mother. She almost didn’t want to look at any other pictures, for fear that they would hurt her all the more. But she swallowed and looked around anyway.

It was a sea of lost moments, laid out around the siblings openly and without context. Their dad had hidden these all away because...why? Gaz found herself repeating Dib’s question from that breakfast the other morning, and felt frustrated that the answer had not come. 

_What happened to mom?_

Gaz picked up another photo — this one had herself still tiny and fragile, cradled by her mother who leaned against her father in his signature white coat, holding a toddler Dib on his shoulders. This photo and many others seemed to show the whole family together, all smiles, all joy. The girl swallowed, feeling her face grow hot and her eyes wet. 

She let the pictures in her hands flutter back to the ground, then looked over to Dib. He was still shuffling through his own pile of photographs, thick eyebrows furrowed in his own brand of emotions. He looked up at her finally, and his expression changed from one of personal dismay to slight concern at Gaz.

She just looked at Dib, red eyes glistening all raw and exposed and _there_ . He wanted to hug her, seeing her like that, but he wasn’t sure how she’d react to such a thing. Physical contact between them was rarely affectionate — he remembered the last time she punched him in the arm. It _hurt_. More than usual. He had wondered after that if she was getting more careless, or more violent, and knew that either way, it wasn’t good.

But now, in this moment, surrounded by memories of their lost mother, the Membrane siblings found themselves sharing a numb, confused pain. The lack of answers to why, the enigma of their father’s behavior, _why_ he had hidden all this away only to tear it all out again like a scabbed wound — all of this left a cloud of uncertainty around brother and sister. In their mutual ignorance, Dib and Gaz looked at each other and found a strange sense of understanding.

Swallowing, Dib managed to take his eyes away from Gaz and looked deeper into the underground lab. 

“Where’s dad, anyway?” 

Gaz sniffed and looked down the hall as well. She stepped away from the mess of photographs and walked further into the lab with her brother. Only a few lights were lit, illuminating a distinct path further into the vault. Normally, if their dad was working down here, there would be sounds aplenty of working machines, soldering irons warming up, bright fluorescents leaving no room for shadows.

But instead the place seemed dark, lonely; almost haunted. Dib thought of all the times he had ventured through strange and abandoned halls on his own, more determined to find proof of the supernatural than fear of it. But here — a solid trepidation settled in his young gut, and he found himself walking as closely to Gaz as possible without tripping over her.

They both stopped after walking some dozens of feet into the dim lab, spotting the distinctive white of Professor Membrane’s coat. He was seated at a desk, hunched over against it with his back to the kids. From their vantage point he almost looked like a ghost — stereotypical white sheet among the darkness.

Fearful but eager, Dib and Gaz rushed to their dad’s side. Gaz tried to shake her father’s collapsed form, his face pressed into his folded arms over the desk’s surface. Of course, he was much too large for her to even nudge him.

“Dad!” she shouted, then stretched to her tiptoes to try and listen for breathing.

Dib looked at the desk surface, noticed another several photographs sprawled out with his mother’s pleasant face laughing into the camera, or shying away candidly. The boy frowned again, tore his eyes away from the heart wrenching portraits and then spotted something else resting by his dad’s head.

Some sort of bottle — long, shaped like a rectangle of thick glass — was tipped on its side. It was empty. Dib wasn’t old enough to drink or even the type to entertain such a curiosity, but he still knew an alcohol bottle when he saw it. 

“Gaz…” he sighed, gesturing for her to look at the bottle. A glass was also nearby, probably pushed away from the professor when he passed out. 

The girl looked at the sight now with new context. Had she...had _they_...ever seen their father drink before? A substance like that just didn’t seem like something the professor would ever indulge in — he prided himself on a clear and level head at all times.

Heck, indulgence altogether wasn’t exactly something that Professor Membrane found much time for. He was always busy, always working, always preoccupied and diving into projects that left little room for “fun and games”. Even with his kids, even after the “incident” with Zim’s Florpus, Membrane had started falling back into his old habits, despite his efforts to try and connect with his children more. It seemed work and science were all he was built for.

But those pictures.

Even at their brief observation the kids saw pictures of their dad grinning, laughing, enjoying himself; pictures of him playing with his children, kissing his wife, eyes bright and alive and _human_. 

Did all of that really disappear with their mother?

A deep, ugly snore caused Dib and Gaz to jump. They regarded their father worriedly. Dib tried to move the chair his dad was sitting in, but to no avail. The seat didn’t have wheels first off, and the man was about three times the size of Dib — a giant of a man to a lot of people, really, much less a 12 year old boy.

“He can’t stay down here,” Gaz said. “What if he gets up and locks the door again?”

Dib nodded, thinking to himself. “We need some help.”

“Zim?”

Dib shook his head. “He’s busy with that tracing...thing. And I don’t know but...he might make this whole thing worse somehow. He does that.”

Gaz sighed, agreeing.

“OH!” she exclaimed. “What about Stella? Or Adam?”

Dib thought of the two scientists who worked with their dad directly at Membrane Labs. Both were friends of the family, as much as they could be, and seemed to have a camaraderie with the professor that was unmatched. Dib remembered something about Stella being a teacher when his dad was in college, Adam was a roommate...something to that effect. In any case, they were possibly the kids’ best bet in helping their dad at this point.

And they might even know something about their mom.

The kids nodded at each other with newfound purpose, and rushed back upstairs to make a phone call.


	5. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously - Zim discovers something troubling; the siblings discover things their dad has been hiding for years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more revelations are shared in this chapter. Enjoy!

When she saw the number on her cell phone, Stella felt almost annoyed. About _time_ that silly man called her and told her directly what was going on. None of Professor Fess Membrane’s administrative assistants knew where he’d been the past couple of days — he hadn’t shown up to the Labs and there seemed to be no info on his calendar indicating that he was going to be unavailable.

This wouldn’t be the first time the professor had left his immediate staff in the dark about his whereabouts. But it was still unusual for him — he was typically so organized and meticulous about his schedules, considering the type of work he did and the clients he did business with. Administrative details were as important to Membrane as science itself.

So when Stella answered her phone and expected to hear Fess on the other line, she felt an uneasy tightening in her chest when it was his son Dib’s voice instead.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Stella leveled her voice and pushed her annoyance out of her system. 

“It’s uhhh, it’s dad,” Dib answered. His voice wasn’t shaky, but she could tell there was worry in his tone. “He’s passed out I think. We need your help.”

Passed out? Stella’s brows furrowed and she turned down the hall to get some privacy. “Is he breathing?” she asked, voice still calm. As with her own grandkids, Stella knew that Dib would probably pick up on her stress if she indicated any.

“Yeah. He’s just...out. I think he drank too much.”

“He’s not face up on the floor is he?”

“No. Face down on his desk in his lab. Downstairs. We can’t move him. Or even wake him up.”

Stella was quiet for a few moments, mind awhirl with confusion. She hadn’t seen the professor drunk before — hungover, yes, like a good number of her college students on a Monday morning. But even with Fess Membrane, it had been few and far between. He was usually pretty careful around her back in college, especially seeing as how she had been his academic mentor and graduate sponsor on more than one occasion.

And that was all nearly twenty years ago now. Professor Membrane wasn’t one for petty substance abuses for mere enjoyment anymore. Much less full on passed out _wasted_.

“Stella…?” came Dib’s voice.

“Sorry, Dib. I’m still here.” The older woman swallowed, and then sighed. “Okay. You got Gaz there too right? Just sit tight, I’ll be over there as soon as I can. I’ll leave now.”

“Okay. Thank you, Stella.”

“Just sit tight, hun,” she responded, and then ended the call.

Stella put her cell phone back in her pocket and bit her lip. She was going to need a little more help.

* * *

Dib and Gaz were waiting for a while, occasionally venturing downstairs together to check on their dad, in case he’d moved at all or awakened. The later it got into the evening caused the kids to get all the more restless. They knew it was around rush hour when they had called Stella, but they hoped she would get here soon. With their dad completely out of commission, they really did have nowhere else to turn.

Finally, the doorbell rang. Both kids rushed to the door, eager for some activity.

Dib opened the door and saw Stella standing there with another man. 

“Stella! Adam!” Dib exclaimed. 

“Hey, little dude!” Adam smiled big, following Stella inside the house. “And Gaz! What’s up?”

Gaz looked at the man and shrugged. “Nothing much. Still playing the new Zelda game.”

“Right on,” Adam nodded enthusiastically. He glanced over at Stella and rubbed his hands together. “So where’s this drunk bastard?”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Language, Dr. Baresi,” she chided, half serious, half exasperated. Adam Baresi certainly wasn’t one to mince words, but Stella knew it was more a facet of his carefree attitude than a lack of tact. 

Not to mention, Adam had been friends with Professor Membrane in school, and his roommate for some time. This gave him some peer-based knowledge of Fess that Stella didn’t have, nor did she really care to. Unlike her, Adam had probably seen the professor being a ‘drunk bastard’ on more than enough occasions to regard this current situation as little more than ‘good ol’ times’.

But she still didn’t have to like it. And she knew that Adam was worried also, despite his cavalier attitude.

“He’s in his workshop downstairs,” Dib answered. He and his sister guided the two adults over to the kitchen and down into the basement. Both Stella and Adam were silent as they descended, wondering to themselves just what they were going to do to help their friend and employer, essentially the figurehead of their place of work. 

At the bottom of the stairs Stella caught sight of the mess of photos, tapes, and other items that were strewn on the floor to the side. Her eyebrows rose, recognizing the subject matter immediately. She heard Adam behind her whisper an “ohhh…” under his breath. She looked back at him, saw him run a nervous hand through his beach blonde hair. They exchanged an uneasy glance.

What made the professor take all _this_ out?

Potential reasons for Membrane’s current state became a little bit clearer to the two scientists as they followed the children deeper into the workshop. Neither of them had heard Fess speak the name of his wife in years, or barely even acknowledge that he was ever married. Seeing Claire’s face in all those pictures; now _that_ was an even rarer sight. Stella had wondered at how the man handled Claire’s loss with his kids, even confronted him about it from time to time. They deserved to know _something_ about their mother.

But Fess was a steel trap when it came to that story — a bank vault shut out from everyone, sealed with unhealthy coping habits and compartmentalizing.

But _something_ had swung that vault wide opened, this time.

The group finally stopped at the desk where Professor Membrane still leaned, practically motionless. Stella shook her head slowly, and Adam stepped forward.

“Hoo boy, is that Blue Label?” he said loudly, picking up the empty whisky bottle on the table. He held it at an angle by the neck, then looked at the passed out man and the remaining items on the table. He eyed a curled piece of foil, obviously having been torn from the bottle for opening. 

“Aaand he drank it all in one sitting, looks like.” Adam sucked in air through his teeth, realizing the extent of his colleague’s inebriation.

“Professor,” Stella said, as loud as she could without actually yelling. She grabbed the unconscious man’s shoulder and shook. She thought she heard him grunt, or snort, but couldn’t be sure. 

Adam put the bottle back onto the table and sighed. Though it was tempting, he knew they couldn’t leave Fess down here to wallow any longer. They’d have to move him to more comfortable lodgings — all six feet plus of him. 

“He’s huge,” Adam said, looking over at Stella. “You know I can’t haul him up those stairs by myself, right?”

Stella rolled her eyes at her younger colleague. “Of course not. But I’m 63 years old, if I throw out my back on the way, you’re carrying the both of us.”

Adam adjusted his glasses and mouthed a ‘yipee’, before bending forward and pulling Membrane away from the desk with an audible grunt. “Alright ‘Fess-man’, let’s get you...over the shoulder like…” he bent himself and slung Membrane’s arm over his neck and straightened. Stella followed suit with his other arm, and both adults managed to lift the professor from his chair.

“He _had_ to pass out in a chair without wheels,” Adam muttered as they started dragging him through the laboratory. Dib and Gaz followed silently, moving things out of the way to make sure the path was clear. 

The trek up the basement stairs and then to the second floor of the house wasn’t as arduous as they anticipated, mostly because the professor managed enough consciousness to use his legs to help a little.

“Wha- what are you two…” came a dry, exhausted voice from Membrane’s mouth.

“Consider this paying my dues for all those times you hauled _my_ drunk ass out of a bar,” Adam said, grunting as he took his friend fully out of Stella’s grip. With the professor ‘walking’ a little bit, he was able to heft the man around the second floor himself. 

Adam looked to Stella. “I got it from here. I’ll make sure he gets the ‘don’t dehydrate and die’ treatment, don’t worry.”

Stella watched the two for a moment before turning back down the stairs. Seeing Adam haul Fess around like that reminded her too much of her time as a university professor, seeing many a wild party let out early in the morning, students stumbling into her 8am classes half asleep, all hungover. Were it then she would have just rolled her eyes and let the day continue as it always had.

But she couldn’t do that now. The older woman thought of the two children left downstairs and went to go look for them. She heard their voices talking quietly to themselves back in the basement and went to investigate.

Dib and Gaz were sitting among the old photos and albums that Stella had seen earlier. She suppressed a frown and approached the two, kneeling beside them. On closer inspection the woman could see a number of pictures she’d seen before — some she’d even snapped herself for the family. 

Stella couldn’t help but shake her head slowly, a twinge of grief in her heart threatening to bubble up. Dib was currently holding a framed picture of what looked like a nebula in space — bright red and orange and blue, dusted with stars. Orion.

“Your dad gave your mother that picture,” Stella found herself saying, nodding towards Dib.

Both kids looked at her curiously. Their eyes were a humbling mix of emotions — shock, confusion, hopeful wonder. Stella swore inwardly — was she going to step on Professor Membrane’s toes and tell them about their mother? Was she the type to do that?

“Why?” Dib asked, looking down at the picture again.

“It was a gift,” the woman answered. “Your dad isn’t one for...lovey dovey stuff but he thought of that all on his own. Snapped the picture with his own telescope and everything. It reminded him of Claire...your mom.”

Dib bit his lower lip and said nothing, placing the framed picture gingerly to the side as if it was as delicate as the memory it seemed to represent. His dad being...in love? Yet another revelation that made the boy’s head spin.

“Did you know her, Stella?” came Gaz’s voice, almost tentative in tone, as if she wasn’t used to being curious. “Our mom.”

Stella looked over at the girl with a gentle smile. “Of course. She went to school nearby where your father went. She was a real artsy type. Painted, sketched, sculpted; did all sorts of things.”

Dib eyed his sister. “Maybe that’s why you like to draw so much.”

Gaz returned her brother’s statement with a raised eyebrow, then looked back at some of the pictures on the floor. For long moments after that the group was quiet, looking through the panoply of unpacked mementos and wondering to themselves.

Stella’s mind was rushing through her own sea of memories from her time as a college professor. She looked down at the photos again, spotted one of just Membrane and Claire hugging each other — the man had his face pressed into Claire’s cheek, in the midst of a laugh; Claire looked at the camera with a sideways smile, almost bashful at the attention she was receiving. 

“So young,” Stella mused under her breath, wistful. She placed the photo back on the ground and eyed the unloaded images and mementos in their entirety. The professor had done very well hiding these reminders away both physically and mentally. Even his kids were bewildered by what they were seeing.

The woman was suddenly curious. “Kids, did something happen to your father before...all this happened?” Stella gestured towards the spread on the floor.

Dib and Gaz looked at each other, exchanging a glance that only they understood. Dib swallowed and stood up. “Well, I...found something and showed him. It was a video of our mom. It’s recent.”

Stella looked at the boy incredulously.

Dib gestured for her to wait, and looked through the pile of photos before pulling out what looked like a tablet screen, though the overall design was of a manufacture Stella didn’t recognize. He pressed some buttons on the device before handing it to Stella. The video in question began to play.

Dib and Gaz watched the woman react to the brief sight of Tak, and then the choppy feed of their mother Claire pleading to the viewer. Stella’s eyebrows were raised and and her skin turned ashen, mind trying feebly to rationalize what she was seeing.

When the video finished, Stella leaned forward on the floor and placed the device onto her lap. She looked blankly at the floor with a puzzled expression.

 _This is some sort of hoax_ , she thought. 

_But Professor Membrane isn’t one to fall for such a thing,_ came another thought in her head. _This has to be legitimate._

_But how?_

_Was it...was Claire really abducted like Fess had said?_

“Stella?” 

The woman’s head shook as she jumped out of her inner monologue. She looked up and saw both Dib and Gaz looking at her. She wanted to know where they got such a video, and _how_.

“What happened to our mom, Stella?” Dib’s voice was shaky, uncertain. Gaz looked at her silently, but the woman knew she was hoping for some clarity too.

Stella sucked in an unsteady breath through her nose, and let it fall out of her body slowly as she thought on what to say next. 

“It was some sort of accident,” she said, shrugging. “We had a satellite lab out in the East Foothills past the forest. A comm relay we were testing for long distance data transmissions; and I mean _long_ distance.”

“Deep space.” Dib said.

Stella nodded slowly. “I don’t know what exactly happened, kids. But...it took your mom. And almost killed your dad.”

Stella’s mind drifted back to unwanted memories. She was running down the hallway, towards Professor Membrane whose usually tall and sturdy profile was buckled over, struggling to stay upright. She remembered the bewildered, bloodshot look on his face, his skin peeled and blackened on one side. And the smell — blood, fire, scorched flesh. She could never forget that smell.

“It...took our mom?” Gaz questioned.

“There was nothing left,” Stella elaborated, but then silenced herself with a frown. Only then did she realize just what exactly she was talking to these children about.

The siblings continued to look at her with bright, attentive eyes — morbid curiosity was all she could see on their faces.

Stella pursed her lips, but continued. “It seemed like an explosion out in the field with the main satellite. Your father had taken your mother there to stargaze after he did some routine maintenance. You two were staying with your grandparents.” Stella took another breath, giving her nerves some more stability. 

“I...everything seemed normal,” she shook her head in disbelief. “But then our radio towers stopped working, communications just...went dark. And then there was this bright flash, the ground shook and windows shattered. It was...it was definitely an accident. Your father...he was almost killed by the explosion. He spent weeks in the hospital recovering.”

“That’s why we were at grandma’s for so long…” Dib mused aloud.

The woman looked at him grimly. “Longer than you think. I...don’t know if I should tell you kids this but...after your mother disappeared,” Stella shook her head slightly, more to herself than anything. “...your father fell into some trouble with the law.”

Both Dib and Gaz’s posture changed at that, their expressions morphing into sheer confusion.

“Like, with the cops or something?” Gaz asked. 

Stella nodded slowly. “They wanted to book your dad on...a murder charge. When they figured _that_ wouldn’t stick — manslaughter. The state wanted to put your dad away for what happened to your mom.”

Dib shifted uncomfortably. “But-”

“- _none_ of us working that night believed your dad would do such a thing, kids.” Stella said with grim conviction. “I don’t know what exactly happened; only your father does. But what I do know,” her expression became confident, “he _loved_ your mother, and the family he created with her. He still does.”

Stella looked at the Membrane siblings’ enthralled faces and sighed. She glanced down at the mysterious device, wondering if this turning point was a good or bad thing for this family. She couldn’t know.

“Whatever happened to Claire, to your mother,” she gripped the edges of the tablet tightly, with conviction. “...he _didn’t do it_.”

The kids looked at her silently. They didn’t need to say anything in response — they knew their dad wasn’t a murderer either. But this revelation of the professor’s run in with the law — that he had been flat out _accused_ of their mother’s death and had risked jail — it was all quickly beginning to feel like too much.

“He’s always been so secretive about her,” Gaz said finally. “Like we almost never had a mom.”

“I thought we were clones, for a while,” Dib said with a bitter laugh.

Stella eyed Dib sadly, then shook her head once more. “Trauma can...do things to people, kids. Cruel, confusing, _horrid_ things. Your father is still here, he still cares for and loves you. He’s doing what he can.”

 _With what’s left. But something died in him, that night,_ Stella reminded herself. _Left his soul in pieces. And it’s affecting his kids._

Dib said nothing, looking sidelong towards the floor with a slight wrinkle in his forehead. Gaz continued to look at Stella, before footsteps descending the basement took all their attention away.

“He’s awake, kinda…” Adam said as he leaned around the stairwell. 

Stella stood up, holding the mysterious tablet in one hand. She glanced at Dib and Gaz. “Let me check on him first, okay?”

The siblings nodded, following the adults back up the stairs and into the kitchen. Adam proceeded to order some pizza on the phone for all of them, while Stella moved into the family room and then up the stairs. She glanced down at the mystery device briefly before approaching the doorway to Professor Membrane’s bedroom. 

A bedside lamp was on, dimmed to its lowest setting. The professor was slightly upright in his bed, slouched more than anything. His head hung forward lazily, locks of his dark hair sticking every which way, some of them stuck to his forehead by sweat. His goggles and coat had been removed. Stella could see his eyes were opened slightly, staring at nothing at the foot of the bed. In the light, the metallic surfaces of his prosthetic arms made eerie reflections around his profile.

She entered and closed the door quietly behind her. She stood there pressing the strange device against her chest with crossed arms, watching the man. Even in the dim light she could see familiarity in the professor’s face — hints of the bright-eyed, attractive young scientist she had mentored decades ago. 

But there was also another veil over him now — a pallid cast of exhaustion in his posture, age in his skin and hair, and that deep-seated pain she had come to recognize in his eyes. The violent scars splashed against his lower jaw always seemed like they wanted to reach for his eyes, underlining the agonizing truth hidden there.

Stella breathed in and eyed the device in her arms. “Looks like the cat’s out of the bag with your kids, Fess,” she said to him, before brandishing the tablet in front of her. “What in god’s name is this video?”

The silence that followed her question seemed to drag on for minutes.

Professor Membrane opened his mouth, swallowed what moisture he could before speaking softly. “It’s Claire…”

Stella nodded matter-of-factly. “Yeah, but what is she doing with that... _other_ thing?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Where did the _kids_ find this?”

“The neighbor. Zim. The one Dib says is an alien.”

“The one you’ve been trying to ignore Dib on?”

“Yes. I...thought he’d given up on trying to convince me...”

Stella frowned. “And how’s that going for you?”

Fess’ shoulders slumped slightly. “Stella…”

The woman didn’t relent. “Fess, I’m saying this as an old friend, who’s seen you go from gawky undergrad student to a lovestruck super-scientist to...to _this._ You should feel lucky Dib _hasn’t_ given up on you. That Gaz hasn’t given up on you. That they still see you as their father instead of just…’the adult who owns their house’.”

The man remained still, though Stella could see his tired eyes looking at her. 

“Whatever this? Is?” she waved the alien device again, “Maybe it’s Claire’s way of giving you one more chance — to parent your kids, to give them some answers, to show them how much they mean to you. How much _she_ meant to you.”

Professor Membrane swallowed uncomfortably, his body barely moving. “I-I...hoped I would never have to hear her voice again. Or see her face.”

Stella’s expression softened a little. It broke her heart seeing the younger man like this, but he needed the words she was giving him, for his own sake, and his kids’. “I know, Fess,” she replied, “It hurts like hell, and you’ve tried to spare your kids that pain as well. But I don’t think you can do that anymore. Dib and Gaz should know who their mom was-”

“- _is_ ,” Fess clarified, turning his head towards her. There was an unsettling, sudden certainty in his expression as he did so.

Dubious, Stella nodded her head at the man reassuringly. “Okay, okay. Is. We can deal with the implications and the content of this video thing later; right now — you need to rehydrate, rest, and then talk your children through all those pictures. You unloaded that on them without explanation.”

The professor nodded in response, though it looked more like his head was dipping in and out of consciousness. 

The woman looked on for a few more moments, before turning towards the door. “One of us will stay here overnight, make sure the kids are settled, and you don’t die. But...I hope you’re hearing me, Fess. For real this time.”

Stella glanced back at the professor before exiting, and made her way back downstairs. One hand still gripped the alien device while another rubbed idly at her scalp through her thick curls. She pulled her hand away, lip curving unhappily at the gray hairs wrapped around her fingers. Two years away from retirement and now _this_ was going on. She could have been home spending time with her grandbabies _like she planned_ , but instead she was trying to give her hungover boss parenting advice.

_Easy, Stella. The professor is your friend. You’ve known him for years…_

The woman sighed as she made it to the first floor. Adam was lounged on the family room couch playing video games. He glanced over at Stella before returning his eyes to the screen. 

“He say anything interesting?” Adam asked, expression focused on the TV.

Stella shrugged. “Not much, but I think I know what started all this.”

Adam snorted. “Yeah, Claire’s alive, apparently?”

The woman arched an eyebrow at him. “That’s what the kids told you, huh? Where are they anyway?”

“In the kitchen, eating pizza and bringing all those pictures and stuff upstairs.” Adam continued to pound away on the controller as he answered, before a distinct explosion and tone signified his defeat. “Fuck!” he spat, before slamming his hand over his mouth and looking at Stella apologetically. 

She rolled her eyes at him. 

Adam put the controller onto the coffee table before leaning back on the couch. “So, is it true? About Claire?”

Stella shook her head. “I have no idea. But I saw the video. It’s her, alright. And recent, according to Dib.”

Adam dragged his hand over his mouth in thought, feeling the stubble of his beard coming in. “This is...huge. What do we do?”

The older woman bit her lip, then glanced down at the alien device she held before relinquishing it to the coffee table.

“We need to be careful, Adam.” She was relieved when the man nodded at her. “Fess and his kids are in a...really fragile state right now. I think we should wait for the professor to sober up and _then_ we can all discuss a practical, calculated next step.”

Adam continued to nod with a sigh. “Alright well, that’s that I guess. You go home; I’ll stick around here tonight. Want to beat this mission anyway,” he gestured towards the TV and the game system, still playing. 

Stella smiled at him tiredly, yet grateful. She hadn’t even been home yet, and it was getting fairly late. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“‘Night…” he said, as she gathered her things.

Stella moved to open the front door and leave the Membrane household. With her hand on the doorknob, she stole one last look into the kitchen. Dib and Gaz were quietly pouring over the kitchen table, arranging and looking at photos of themselves and their parents. The woman wondered what was going through their young heads in that moment — if they were confused, pensive, sad. Angry. Stella wished there was something suitable she could say, to make the whole thing easier for the kids to understand.

But truth be told, the scientist was confounded herself. Exiting the house and walking towards her car, the woman paused briefly to look up at the night sky with a new sense of trepidation. Despite the light pollution of the city, Stella could see the brightest stars shining plainly and apparent.

She felt a shiver, then, when she thought of them looking back.


	6. Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously - old friends of the professor come to help, and reveal some secrets to his kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confrontations and a nice helping of angst

_ “Sir, if you don’t give us a more detailed statement, this investigation will only stall longer.” _

_ Both officers looked at each other again, still standing in the doorway of the hospital room. They weren’t sure why the lead detective wanted them to try and pry more detail from Professor Membrane, of all people, but that’s what they were here to do. Hopefully. _

_ The eerie beeps and whirs of medical machinery seemed to drone on without interruption. The professor, dressed in nothing but a hospital frock and layers of bloodied and reapplied gauze, continued to stare deadeyed at a far corner of the room. If he was in pain, he didn’t show it. Though it was hard to imagine he was placid given the amount of damage done to his body, and the bewildered look on his face. Maybe the battery of pain meds had numbed him. _

_ Alone with Professor Membrane in his own separate hospital room, the two police officers found themselves on edge. They knew as anyone else who this man was — the enigmatic, scientific benefactor who just so happened to live in their city. He had been largely faceless up to this point, save for the enormous research lab conglomerate he founded, the goggled face half-concealed by a stark-white lab coat, plastered on promotional materials throughout the world.  _

_ Aloof and mysterious. Intimidating. _

_ And yet, here he was now. Just a man in every sense of the word. Reeking of antiseptic and mesh bandages and blood. Barely coherent — traumatized and weakened. _

_ The officers turned to look at the professor when they heard him move slightly in his bed. _

_ “Sir?” _

_ Membrane swallowed. The incinerated flesh of his neck caused the bandages there to stretch and shift. _

_ “Professor,” one of the officers said cautiously, “what happened to Claire-” _

_ “They were…” Membrane’s voice was rough, quiet. “S-something...took her.” _

_ “‘Took’, sir?” _

_ “From the sky…” the professor sucked in a quivering, congested breath, lungs still dripping with phlegm and blood. _

_ Both officers looked confused. “From the-” _

_ “-what are you people doing here?” an angry woman’s voice came from down the hall, interrupting the officer’s question. The pointed click of stilettos signaled the arrival of the woman into the room, grey suit pressed and sharp and rigid with indignation. _

_ She threw up her hand before the officers could answer. “I’m Professor Membrane’s lead attorney. Your superiors should have received a memo that any and all questions pertaining to this case must go through me and my staff from here on out.” _

_ One of the officers attempted a halfhearted protest, but another wave of the woman’s hand silenced them once more. The woman ushered the officers out of the room and back down the hall, demands and rebukes still flowing, but at that point the professor might as well have been hearing underwater static.  _

_ Alone with his bewildered thoughts yet again, Professor Membrane continued to stare wide eyed and battered at a far corner of his hospital room. Occasionally, he would mumble something to himself — a complicated equation, a formula; desperately accurate calculations that could possibly rationalize and explain  _ **_to the number_ ** _ what exactly had happened that night. _

_ Something.  _

_ An answer to why. _

_ Or who… _

* * *

“I’m so sorry…Claire...” The words stumbled out of Professor Membrane’s mouth as he awoke groggily.

The distant shake of the front door closing caused him to jolt. Lying on his stomach, the man groaned and attempted to lift himself from his prone position. His throbbing headache had lessened a little, probably thanks to the buckets of water and aspirin supplied to him by Adam.

A few more heaves and grunts later, Fess managed to sit up in bed and see the slivers of morning light burning through his window blinds. He ran an ungloved prosthetic hand through the mess of dark hair atop his head and swallowed. The dry discomfort that followed in his throat made him wince. He grabbed at a fresh water bottle and emptied it in several large, wanting gulps.

Tossing the empty bottle to the side, the professor supposed he should check to see who had entered or left his household just now. And  _ then _ determine what exactly he was going to tell his kids. Recalling the uneasy conversation he’d had with Stella the night before, he let a deep, exhausted exhale flow out of his mouth. 

_ Looks like the cat’s out of the bag with your kids, Fess. _

He could only imagine how disheveled his face looked right now. He stared at the floor at his feet, mouth shut, brows furrowed. Everything he had seen and did recently was coming back to him in nauseating waves. 

Membrane sighed gruffly and combed a hand through his hair again. With great effort, he stood up to his feet and readied himself for a slow trek downstairs. He reached for his glasses in place of his high tech goggles, and then grabbed his lab coat almost instinctively, if only to use it as an immediate means to warm the sudden goosebumps at his neck.

* * *

* * *

Both Dib and Gaz woke up early to continue their impromptu journey through their family’s catalogue of memories. There wasn’t quite a method or pattern to what they did; they meandered through pictures of their parents as students, themselves as infants, the entire Membrane family together and...happy. 

It was all an overwhelming and confusing mess for them, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Adam had since left the house to get some donuts, leaving Dib and Gaz to their work. They barely registered the sounds of heavy feet stepping down the stairs, and then shuffling to the kitchen table to join them. 

It was Dib who stopped rifling through pictures for a moment to eye his father, who slouched into an empty seat at the table. He watched the man’s eyes, with reading glasses resting low, search across the images before him; so many moments and faces he had stowed away to be forgotten. Membrane reached for a small picture seemingly at random, brought it close to his tired face and stared. 

It was a moment Fess remembered quite well. A young Claire was on the floor, leaned against the wall of the upstairs bathroom, dead asleep, covered in a number of blankets and stuffed animals. Pregnant with Gaz at the time, she had been dealing with severe morning sickness off and on for weeks. The professor supposed that Dib, in his infinite, juvenile compassion, had brought every blanket and toy he had to the bathroom to comfort his mother.

A small smile crept timidly onto the man’s face as he spotted little Dib tucked under his mother’s arms. They had fallen asleep together there. The young father couldn’t help but snap a quick picture before carrying his wife and son to more comfortable lodgings. 

And just like that, Professor Membrane felt himself thrown back to a time he had tried so hard to forget — the pain of what was lost becoming all the sharper with this tender, heartfelt memory he held in his hands.

Dib and Gaz looked at their dad and saw a face with a fatigued, shallow stare. They caught the quiver of a smile on his lips before it faded just as quickly, and wondered what was going through his mind as he looked at that photo. 

“Dad?” Gaz’s voice broke the silence. “Why did you hide all this?”

Fess lifted up his weary eyes from the photo in his hands to regard his daughter. He saw that concern and curiosity mixed in her eyes and felt a sting of remorse — made all the more raw and painful because he didn’t know what to say to her.

“I’m afraid I...don’t have a good answer for you, Gazlene,” the professor replied. He swallowed and looked away from her, as if ashamed.

“Did she- did mom do something bad?” Gaz’s normally deadpan voice seemed to tremble.

Professor Membrane looked back at her and shook his head slowly, but purposefully. “No, no, hun,” he breathed, almost shocked by her question. “The opposite, in fact. She did everything right.” 

He then sucked in air through his nose uneasily, wistfully. He squeezed his eyes shut and then looked back at the photo resting in his lap. “She was…perfect. And I couldn’t handle losing that. So...I tried to forget.”

Heavy silence followed those words, covering the family in a blanket of unease. Membrane could feel his children’s eyes on him, probably just as confused as the night before. He wasn’t used to talking so candidly like this — without a plan; without a sense of control or logic anticipating every possible question and answer. His raw emotions ran bare and wild and reckless now.

“Stella said that it was an accident,” Gaz noted quietly. “An explosion or something.”

Membrane’s brows furrowed. The hydraulics in one of his arms made a quiet hiss as he scratched at the exposed scars on his jaw, suddenly aching with recollection. He nodded slowly, still looking down at his lap.

“It was more than just an explosion, though. Wasn’t it?” Dib’s voice, tinged with skepticism, caused the professor to look back up. 

Fess’ eyes met the boy’s cold, unwavering stare. The father knew that expression well — youthful curiosity outlined with an uncompromising, grim cynicism. It was the look of a boy who was used to prodding for answers, but being called crazy for even wondering; or worse — ignored altogether. 

“Dad,” Dib spoke again.

Membrane blinked but remained slouched in his chair, almost cowering from the opened air surrounding him. He realized then that in his remorse he had looked away from his son, as if ashamed. 

“I had hoped that I had been wrong about that night…” he answered finally, voice gravelly and tired.

Dib’s eyes narrowed in response. Gaz continued to look on, sensing a growing unease. 

Professor Membrane’s lips trembled. “They thought I killed her,” he said with a slow shake of his head, pained by the notion of those words. 

Dib and Gaz glanced at each other, then back to their dad. The boy felt himself clenching his jaw in burning anticipation, realizing that he was being given a rare second chance to ask his father  _ the _ question.

“Dad,” Dib’s voice was soft then, measured so as to mask the premature disappointment he was used to. “What really happened to mom?”

Fess lifted his head up and gazed at the far wall for a moment, before turning back towards Dib. A long slumbering dread was now being pushed to the forefront — truths and traumas he had tried to deny and ignore, awakening now in violent clarity. The pictures of Claire and his family stared back at him with a bright and fierce significance. Dozens of unwavering eyes awaiting his answer.

“Something else...was out there,” Professor Membrane replied. His words were delivered in a slow, deliberate cadence, as if recounting that night second for second. “I saw it. I  _ felt it _ . But no one would listen to me.”

Dib breathed in shakily, at once confused and disturbed by how his father’s words seemed to mirror his own arguments from times past. Arguments  _ with  _ his father. Part of him was thrilled by what his dad seemed to be admitting to; another part began to burn like a tiny spark in his throat — a budding resentment uniting with rage.

“Aliens.” 

Dib uttered the word with great care. A term evoking imagery, beliefs he had been ridiculed and ostracized for believing in for so long.

Too long.

Professor Membrane swallowed again. “I was never one hundred percent certain, until now.”

And then that was it. The spark in Dib’s throat ignited and erupted in his chest. He slammed his hands onto the table, sound jolting the still air like a gunshot. 

“Why?!” the boy yelled. 

Gaz looked at her brother with a sharp glare, though she knew it would do nothing to temper his rage.

Membrane stared at his son, silent.

Dib continued, “Why did you call me crazy, then?!” Somehow his voice seemed to echo in the room. “Or ignore me, or  _ mock _ me for bringing you proof like this before? Proof of aliens? Proof that our fucking  _ neighbor _ was an alien?”

“Dib!” Gaz snapped. “Stop wi-”

“-all this  _ time _ you knew there were aliens, all this  _ time _ you ‘suspected’ mom was out there.” Dib didn’t even seem to register that Gaz had spoken. “But instead you... _ lied _ to me. Treated me like a...a nutjob! And you just  _ hid _ all this! You  _ hid _ .” His voice cracked at the sobs he was trying his damndest to suppress.

The boy jerked his arm at the photos on the table. His ears were red with rage; his eyes glistened with frustrated, agonized tears. He felt betrayed, hurt, more alone than he had ever felt before. All along his father  _ knew _ , but chose to disbelieve him anyway. All along his father  _ knew _ . And did nothing.

“Why…?” Dib breathed out, his head throbbing with pain. He hated crying. It always made his head hurt. Made him feel like a fool. A failure. He was standing on his chair now, hunched over the tabletop and staring wide eyed and feverish.

Fess unclenched the intricate digits of his prosthetic hands, realizing he had tightened them into fists as Dib released his ire. Frustration always made the man tense up — whenever he was stopped by a project’s sudden setbacks, a company meeting droning on for too long, a media circus out of his control.

Frustration like what he felt now, as he tried to think of an answer to Dib’s indignation, and finding none. His behavior these past years since Claire was taken remained a tedious, baffling anomaly. They were feelings the professor couldn’t rationalize nor expel, instead electing to hide himself away from their cruel truth. 

Until now. 

“Why?” Dib’s voice was almost an exhausted whisper, but he remained standing on his chair.

The professor took a deep breath before trying to answer Dib. His mind spun as he recalled those horrid months within the court system — endless meetings with lawyers, detectives, deteriorating dealings with his in-laws. Drama and fighting and pain that he was never equipped to manage by himself. 

“They tried to use the alien angle against me,” Fess answered quietly. “During the...there was a custody battle...after your mom disappeared.”

Gaz lifted her head, disturbed by this revelation. Dib’s posture didn’t budge.

“Your grandparents’ attorneys,” Membrane sighed, “wanted me declared insane;  _ unfit  _ to raise you. All because I posited extraterrestrial influence for your mother’s loss.”

A pregnant silence befell the table then. The father shook his head, taking his hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezing at the skin underneath his glasses. “They wanted to take you two away from me. I would have never seen you again.”

In response to that, Gaz felt herself frown, watching the usually powerful and sturdy frame of her father diminish under the weight of his confession. Dib was astonished as well, but the feeling was quickly smothered by his sustained anger. He stared at his dad coldly, the pain of betrayal preventing any hope of sympathy.

“We would have been better off...” Dib uttered, scowling. His voice was low — rigid and almost hateful in its weight. He remained bent over the table, hands pushed into the surface, knuckles white. 

Fess’ jaw clenched as he looked back up at Dib, recognizing with terrible clarity the truth — painful as it was — to his words. His son and daughter were just kids, so young and failed so much by a father who was so weak, and too  _ selfish _ to confront his own pain and accept his losses. 

Because he couldn’t bare to let them go to a place more stable; because he’d rather cling to them like a parasite. Just to keep their presence within reach.

Because they were the last remnants of the woman and the life he had loved so much.

The professor felt tears welling pitifully at the corners of his eyes. He felt defeated. Ashamed. 

“You’re right, son...” Membrane said finally, voice ready to crack. “I’m sorry.” 

Dib felt the conviction in his anger deflate slightly; he admitted inwardly that there was something disturbing in seeing his dad brought to tears. He licked his lips to buy himself some time, when the front door swung opened.

“Donuts are here!” Adam said cheerfully, balancing a pink box on one hand as he closed the door behind him with his foot.

Oblivious to the drama currently in the room, the man stepped into the kitchen to make his delivery and deposit Fess’ car keys. His shoes squeaked against the floor when he noticed Dib standing on his chair and practically glaring daggers at his dad. He eyed Fess nervously, and then saw Gaz’s face bowed low and covered by her hair.

“Oh…” Adam said under his breath, eyeing the spread of old photos on the table.

Taking Adam’s presence as his cue, Dib scooted his chair away from the table and jumped off. He stalked his way to the stairs and made a solitary, disgusted trek to his room. His dad’s remorseful face hovered uncomfortably in his mind, and for a few seconds a twinge of guilt shook at Dib’s resolve.

The boy held his breath as he slammed his bedroom door and pressed his back against it. With a trembling exhale he crumpled limply to the floor, muting devastated sobs behind his arms.

* * *

* * *

After Dib stalked off, Gaz found herself remaining at the table for a time. She watched Adam and her dad exchange uneasy glances with each other, before Adam left the room to make a phonecall to Stella. She observed her dad silently, not knowing what to say. And it seemed that he was at a loss as well.

Absently, Gaz glanced at a random picture on the table — her mother looked right at her, smiling warmly with bright, attentive eyes. She wished desperately that the image would bring her comfort. But instead, all Gaz felt was a biting frustration — not truly anger, but an unsettling feeling that her worldview was suddenly and wholly dissolved. And she could do nothing to repair it.

Gaz had never been as eager for her dad’s attention as Dib was. She too found her dad’s absence and indifference frustrating and tedious once in a while, but she prided herself on her cool head and independence in contrast to Dib. She was typically content with her lot in life — home alone, playing video games, watching her brother and Zim fight and scheme from a distance, stepping in only when their antics threatened to level the city or she felt Dib was truly in over his head. 

Despite the inconvenience of it all, Gaz had made it this far on her own resourcefulness, and she figured she could continue that way forever. 

But she had been wrong before.

Like the photos on the table in front of her, new truths stared at Gaz unblinking, unflinching, and coldly present. The tight ball of security built by her father’s perceived apathy was swiftly unraveling in the face of a new reality. Her mother was abducted, her grandparents wanted to take her away, her dad knew about aliens all along, but was forced to deny it lest he lose his kids. So many truths that she didn’t want to —  _ couldn’t _ — handle. 

Usually she was perfectly comfortable remaining silent, but at this moment Gaz wished with all her might that she could say something to disarm the frigid tension in the kitchen, march up to Dib’s room and  _ make _ him come back down here so they could all continue talking. Heal. Go back to normal.

But no words, nor strength came. The girl looked at her father uncertainly. His tired eyes flickered wetly towards her, pleading in a way, but also mired in shame.

It looked like there wouldn't be a simple way out this time.

* * *

* * *

Hours had passed since the morning’s events. The sun shone through Dib’s blinds in bright white streaks — a sign that the afternoon was in full swing and he’d fumed the day away in his room. 

Twice today his father had sent up a drone with water and food for the boy to sustain himself. It was a gesture weighted with fatherly concern, but one too delicate for Dib’s resentment to appreciate. 

He did take the supplies though. And left the empty plates and glasses outside his closed door when he was finished. Occasionally he’d hear heavy footsteps come by — his father walking up, probably in hopes that his son’s door was opened. But Dib didn’t relent. It was an hour ago when he last heard his dad lift the dishes from the other side of the door and quietly make his way downstairs again. 

_ Good. Stay away from me. _

Dib’s head still throbbed from his anger and frustration. He had since stopped crying, but his teeth remained clenched despite his face relaxing into a decidedly exhausted and forlorn expression. He looked blankly at the opposite wall while his mind drifted numbly from one bitter memory to the next. Choice scenes of his past where his dad had ignored him, or told him to come back later, or nodded along to his son’s words without listening. 

So many times where he had to fight Zim alone, face the ridicule of his classmates or adults alone, research alone, cry alone… So many times he had tried to reach out to his father for even just a nod of validation; a sliver of joy that his dad was listening. 

Dib pondered wistfully on that sense of loneliness he was so used to, and realized that from here on out he would gladly remain that way. No longer would he chase that stupid carrot of acknowledgment from his dad, believing in aliens or otherwise. 

The bitter resentment in Dib’s young mind swelled with satisfaction as he imagined turning the tables on his dad — to blithely ignore any of his attempts to reconcile, to remind his father with biting comments that this was all  _ his fault _ and no one else’s. That he’d had every chance to help his son grow but failed. That he  _ chose _ to fail. That he-

A distinct rattle at the window caused Dib to jolt out of his resentment-fueled fantasy. He turned and saw the distinct green coloration of Zim’s skin pressed against the window glass, false eyes wide. It was somewhat comical, as Dib realized the alien was probably hanging and straining against the second story window with great effort.

The boy stood up with a grunt and rushed to open the widow for Zim. The Irken scrambled inside with surprising speed — like a bug or lizard on startled legs.

Dib took a few steps back, alarmed by Zim’s movements. “What’s going-”

“They’re coming!” Zim hissed, eyes still wide. “They’re coming here!” 

It was then that Dib noticed the slightly paler coloration of Zim’s skin, yellowish and mottled. He’d only ever seen that when the alien was truly and utterly scared.

“Who’s coming here? What do you-” Then it was Dib’s turn to pale. “Do you mean the ‘Hell-things’?”

“Helconid,” Zim corrected, “and yes. Yes, Dib! I...something may have triggered them to come looking. I’m not sure what-”  _ Lies. _ Zim shook his head and tugged at his own antennae. “But I know they are coming.” 

The Irken searched Dib’s face for acknowledgement, saw the telltale signs of fear and urgency in the boy’s eyes and skin color. He continued, “They are calculated to arrive tonight, Dib. And I know where.”

The boy bit his lower lip in thought, working through the panic bubbling in his stomach. He nodded dutifully. “Okay, where? What should we do?”

“It’s not far from here; out in the forest. I already sent GIR there with equipment to set up a perimeter. I don’t know  _ what _ their plan is, but we should be sneaky and-”

“I’m in. Let me get ready.” Dib’s tone was blunt and oddly levelheaded for being panicked. 

Zim eyed the boy curiously then, wondering then at why it appeared Dib had been crying earlier, and was still dressed in his sleep clothes. He watched as Dib prepared for a trek into the woods, getting dressed and gathering what he typically used for investigations into his book bag.

The Irken opened his mouth to ask something when a knock rattled the door. Dib froze, his face going from urgent and excited, to dark and sour. He eyed the door with dark eyes.

“Dib,” Gaz called to him, “Stella is here. She was going to take us to get some pizza. Come on.”

Dib’s posture relaxed. He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t Gaz.”

The doorknob rattled as his sister tried to open it. But it was locked. “Why? Dad isn’t coming so...you don’t have to worry about that.”

The boy sighed. He unlocked the door and let his sister enter. She glanced at Zim with a raised brow and then back at her brother. Her face changed from curiosity to a knowing, annoyed look. “Where are you going?”

Dib stepped into his boots and pulled them up his shins. “With Zim. He said those aliens are coming back.”

Gaz’s brows raised. “The ones who took mom?”

“Yes,” Zim interjected. “Nearby. But it’s not an invasion-scale arrival. I detected only two ships on my computer’s scanners. So it seems to be a scouting mission. But I am being careful.” 

The girl frowned again, looking back at Dib. “Two ships or not, didn’t those things almost kill dad?”

Dib shrugged. “ Dad didn’t have Irken technology protecting him. Or mom.”

Gaz pursed her lips. “You two need to think this through.” She pointed directly at Dib. “ _ You _ need to think this through. You shouldn’t go.”

The boy lifted his face at her, brows furrowed. “I’ll be fine, Gaz.”

“Will you? You just had a one-sided screaming match with dad.”

“I wasn’t screaming,” he said, walking over to his opened window. Zim was already perched on the edge. “And he deserved it.”

Gaz grumbled, her fists clenched. “Did he? You think he treated you that way because he thought it was fun, Dib? Dad couldn’t say anything about aliens because he was under a microscope all the time. They wanted to take us away, Dib! And you constantly blabbing about aliens and  _ bigfoot _ was making it harder for dad to look normal!”

“Blabbing?!” Dib’s voice cracked with indignation. “Harder? For  _ dad _ ?!” He stepped away from the window and stalked toward Gaz. He looked down at her, hurt and angry. “You‘re just as bad as he is, you know that? You could have spoken up for me so many times, but you didn’t.” 

Pride allowed Gaz to continue glowering up at her brother, but she did admit inwardly that looking up at him, his face a mix of pain and anger and sadness, was weirdly intimidating.

Dib continued his accusation. “And now that you’ve learned, plain as day, that he’s spent all this time  _ lying _ to you and me about mom, about aliens, about... _ everything _ -” He threw his hands up in exasperation, “-you’re  _ still _ taking his side.  _ Typical _ .”

Gaz inhaled through her nose, trying to find the words to throw back at her brother. He gave her one last disappointed shake of his head before returning to the window. Something in Zim’s PAK clicked, and the air outside shimmered unevenly before revealing the Irken’s cruiser hovering at the window. 

She watched helplessly as Dib hopped inside before Zim. “Dib…” she didn’t like how her voice faltered.

Before leaping out of the window, Zim glanced back at her. A spindly leg emerged from his pack and deposited a small, cellphone-sized device into his hand. He pressed some buttons and then tossed it towards the girl.

“Where we will be,” Zim informed evenly, before joining Dib in the ship. 

Gaz caught the device in her hands, watched as the voot cruiser and its occupants disappeared into its cloaking tech once more before blowing a cool jet of air through the window. Gone.

The girl’s hands shook, enraged and disturbed by her brother’s direct outburst at her, and then watching him fly away with Zim towards what could very well be suicide. She looked down at the device, realizing that it appeared to be a map of the city and its surrounding environs. A bright pink dot pulsed at the edge, indicating the destination for Dib and Zim. As well as something else.

Something bad.

Gaz clenched her teeth and rushed out of her brother’s room. She gripped the Irken device tightly and practically jumped down the stairs. “Dad!” she yelled.

Stella and Adam were standing in the entryway, jackets on and ready to leave.

“Is your brother coming?” Stella asked as Gaz rushed past her.

“Dad!” Gaz shouted again, speeding into the kitchen and then down the stairs to the lab. 

Stella and Adam looked at each other, suddenly worried. Adam ran upstairs to check on Dib, while Stella rushed after Gaz into the basement.

“Dad!” Gaz was almost breathless as she made it to the workshop floor. Professor Membrane stood up from where he was crouched, having been organizing the photos and items he had taken out of the closet in his frenzy. He saw the way his daughter seemed to practically vibrate with fear and rushed over to her in a few wide steps.

“What’s wrong, Gaz?” he knelt in front of her and placed his mechanical hands against her arms to steady her. Stella came up to them shortly after.

“Dib,” Gaz breathed. She brought the little device to her dad’s face, hand shaking. 

Fess took it in one hand but continued looking at his daughter. “What about Dib, is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” her voice was uncertain. “Zim came by. He said those aliens, the ones who took mom...are coming back.”

The professor swallowed, still looking at Gaz. Adam then came down the stairs, rushing up to meet the others. “Dib’s not upstairs.”

“He went with Zim,” Gaz continued, then pointed to the device in the professor’s hand. “That’s where they are going.”

Suddenly very, deeply uneasy, Fess Membrane stood up and looked at the small alien screen he held. His associates looked on, frozen in anticipation; watched as the professor’s complexion paled and his jaw tightened in fear and recognition. He knew exactly where that blinking dot was pointed.

“We have to go.”


	7. Shapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously - painful confessions, Dib feels betrayed; Zim shares some disturbing news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time coming I know! This one was a doozy to write just for all the emotion and pacing I wanted to convey at the same time. Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Tell ur friends :3

The wooded outskirts that Zim jetted over wasn’t in an area that Dib was too familiar with. He knew the trailheads and routes of most of the surrounding wilderness by heart, even wandered through several uncharted regions on his own and made his own maps. But there were still places in the terrain flanking the city that Dib had yet to explore. 

Zim’s voot cruiser passed effortlessly over the perimeter of what looked like a tall chain link fence. The metal of the barrier was overgrown with thick foliage, likely impossible to notice at their height were the sun not still out. Points of barbed wire curled atop like briar vines; the whole placement was eerie and wrong. The lack of an obvious purpose to the structure made goosebumps on Dib’s skin rise uncomfortably, and the fact that they passed over it without a hitch didn’t help matters. 

A voice in Dib’s head told him he knew this area, at least once upon a time. But he wasn’t sure if it was because he had been here as a young child or if a strange premonition was trying to encourage his fear response. Either way, Dib was in no mood to listen to it. Not now.

Zim lowered his craft into the trees without slowing. The cruiser passed over and under and through branches effortlessly, like a fish among kelp. Rapidly the thickness of the pines began to thin out, and Dib saw the grassy floor take over and yawn out to a large clearing. 

In the surrounding overgrowth, Dib spotted what looked like an old concrete building on a small hill. It’s windows were shattered and glass remnants glowed against the evening sun like teeth. Beyond these portals was emptiness — black squares indicating stark abandonment. Nothing but shadows watched over this isolated glade.

Zim landed his craft on the floor behind several old pine trees. As Dib stepped out and onto the grass he noticed strange shapes in the deeper trees, crawling closer to them as Zim too exited his vehicle and surveyed the area. Dib’s hair stood on end until he realized what the shapes were — dozens of pointy and needle-legged Irken drones, moving in clusters and crawling through the foliage and over the earth like giant spiders.

As they drew closer, Dib could see the details of each of the machines — large guns mounted on needle-sharp legs. They barely made a sound as they closed in on Dib and Zim, before all halting in unison. Awaiting orders.

Dib squinted his eyes when he noticed strange decals on some of the drones. No, they were marker drawings — eyes and smiles and teeth scribbled onto the chassis of several of the machines in GIR’s attempt to familiarize the otherwise mindless weaponry. Dib noticed that the robot was even fast at work on another drone — he straddled the thing like a horse and was in the process of coloring in a pair of eyes. 

It would have been amusing to see, as per usual, if Dib was in a better mood. But instead, he just felt his frown persist, mind still submerged in the painful memories of the earlier part of the day.

“This is the spot,” Zim said, causing Dib to turn to him. 

The Irken was typing on a small device that had been drawn from his PAK. Some of the drones clicked eerily in response and began to walk off to another part of the perimeter. GIR hopped off of his current mount and scurried over to Zim. 

“Do you know when, exactly?” the boy asked, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

Zim shook his head, brows furrowed. He looked back at the device he was operating. “They are near, but their approach has slowed. I don’t know if they are waiting for something, or plotting.”

Or worse — knew they were expected. Zim didn’t like the thought of that. His tech was pretty decent at remaining undetectable when he wanted it to be, but he worried at the thought of these mysterious aliens knowing his every response. It was his own carelessness that alerted them in the first place, after all.

“So I guess we just wait,” Dib mused. 

The Irken nodded at that, and his device was pulled back into his PAK. He gestured at the remaining drones, which retreated back into the foliage to form the remainder of a perimeter around the clearing. Dib watched them go, quietly impressed by how the walking weapons could navigate this terrain with such ease. 

Idly, Dib wondered why he had never encountered such things before, back when he was Zim’s enemy. A stray thought made the boy swallow uncomfortably — had Zim been...holding back on his deadly potential all this time? Was that all it was up until now? 

A breeze made noise through the surrounding trees, startling Dib out of his uncomfortable reverie. As if on instinct he looked towards the sky to see if something was coming, but the lofty splashes of orange and blue indicated that some daylight still remained. 

_ I guess we just wait... _

* * *

“You don’t think there’s something coming  _ tonight _ do you?” Stella sat in the back seat of her boss’ car but leaned forward, her expression worried. The vehicle bumped and rumbled on the gravel of the old road, causing her to grip at an interior door handle while Membrane’s foot remained on the gas.

Sitting in the passenger’s seat, Gaz shrugged. “Zim could be wrong, but I didn’t like the look on his face.”

Unsettled silence followed her words, before Gaz looked sidelong at her father. His goggles were on along with the rest of his stark white lab uniform, but she could detect the ice cold determination in his face, and that distinct furrow in his brow. 

With one hand the professor pivoted the wheel to make a sharp turn down an incline — still on the road, but a particularly beat down and overgrown one.

Stella leaned back, glancing at the darkening woodlands that rushed them by as Fess drove. She hadn’t been to this area in...years. And after having purposefully avoided this side of the outskirts for so long, it became distinctly more unpleasant to Stella as they continued to drive. 

The woman glanced over at Adam who sat next to her, with his blue eyes glued to the outside view. His face looked different, the age in his fair skin seemingly exaggerated and drawn deeper and longer by the darkness in the car. Stella could see Adam’s neck tighten and relax as he tried to swallow whatever dark memories were now occupying his mind. Slowly she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He looked to her without that usual cheeky twinkle in his eye, and Stella suppressed her knowing frown.

Adam was there too, that night. Like her he heard and saw and  _ felt _ that chaos erupt around them, blow the glass out of the windows in one hellish pulse, reduce his best friend to a bloody, mangled shell who could barely crawl his way back to the onsite lab. 

They were still kids to Stella, as far as she was concerned — Adam, and Fess, and Claire. She remembered taking command in the aftermath and guiding Adam in administering first aid to Fess before he could fall into shock. Then working to reorient the other scientists and assistants on scene, make sure everyone else was accounted for; direct the paramedics, and then the police.

The years flew by since that night and Stella had over time gotten a decent handle on the personal distress it had caused her. But as the sunlight faded into deeper, muted oranges and blue-black sky around them, she felt the numbing fear of what had happened reemerge. Hollow and disorienting, it grew stronger as Stella recognized the turns Membrane was making with his car, particular old tree trunks she had studied on her own when she had free time, even the darkness felt familiar to her. 

The Membrane Labs Deep-Space Comm project didn’t  _ need _ to be operated at night, but that was often the time they were all at the facility. Even Claire. She had enjoyed viewing the night sky from the area because the light pollution from the city was markedly suppressed. It was one of her favorite pastimes, and therefore became one of Professor Membrane’s as well. Frequently he’d ask for specialized staff to be available to aid in varying experiments and studies on the project after hours. Overtime pay was included, so unsurprisingly there were always volunteers available. 

No matter the time of day, it was a promising scientific endeavor to all involved.

Until it wasn’t.

“Wha...what the hell was that?” Adam said quietly, pointing out the window. 

Stella blinked and looked back at him, but saw nothing outside. The sunlight was getting farther away, and the thick trees made everything look like a tangled, gnarled mess of shadows.

Adam frowned, glanced through the rear window of the vehicle before settling back down. “Swore I saw something... _ bright pink  _ out there.”

No one said anything at that, but the car breaks began to make a high pitched whine as Fess slowed the vehicle down. The trees were spread out more here, and the driver turned the vehicle onto a dirt clearing and brought it into park in front of a tattered chain link gate. Both Stella and Adam exited the car with flashlights in hand, the sounds of dirt under their feet mixing with their hushed voices as they spoke quietly to each other.

Meanwhile, Gaz unfastened her seatbelt and moved to open the door before she felt her dad’s large hand rest over her shoulder and chest. She glanced at him. His face was still aimed ahead, goggle lenses shining with the headlights. He said nothing, but his other hand still gripped the steering wheel with an intensity that made the material of his gloves scrape softly.

It felt like minutes before the professor could bring himself to speak. “Stay close,” he said, then swallowed.

Gaz nodded at him when he turned his head to regard her. They both left the car and Gaz felt the chill night air bite her ears. She was glad her dad reminded her to bring her jacket, and hugged the garment to herself as she silently followed the adults up to the gate and the chain and padlock that held it shut.

“You got some bolt cutters?” Adam asked.

Fess shook his head. “No need.” 

He reached a gloved hand out to the thick metal chain and yanked once. A bright spark cut through the cold air as the metal stretched and snapped like brittle wood, failing utterly to withstand the strength of Fess’ prosthetics. 

He pulled the broken chain out of the gate and dropped it to the ground unceremoniously. The group was quiet as they followed the grim man deeper into the woods — none of them certain about what they would find.

* * *

Zim’s antennae twitched, unsatisfied with the silence. “You are upset because…” Zim’s voice buzzed curiously in Dib’s ears, “...your father believes aliens exist?”

“No, it’s because he knew all along,” Dib grunted. “And he lied about it.”

“But he tells you now. That’s good, right?”

“That’s...it’s more than that, Zim.” Dib’s shoulders slumped. 

The alien responded by jutting out his jaw in that strange, characteristic way — both confused and ponderous at Dib’s sour demeanor. Lying or not, the timing of the Dib-father’s admission couldn’t be better. At least to Zim. Maybe that would help Dib-thing’s irritating sadness.

“Nevertheless, your dad-unit’s belief in aliens could be advantageous to us, especially now.” Zim felt a tingle of pride when Dib’s face looked at him curiously. They sat across from each other in separate branches of a nearby tree, waiting things out with idle chatter.

Dib hugged his legs closer to himself and shrugged. “I guess…”

Zim’s antennae danced faintly as they detected movement from within the woods. It was the distinct, heavy sounds of human feet; the alien’s head turned to search the shadows as Dib’s ears picked up the noise as well.

“Dib?” called a low, resonant voice from beyond the trees.

The boy frowned, both in reignited anger and mild surprise that his father was here at all.

The beams of multiple flashlights waved between the trees then, and Dib adjusted his glasses to try and identify who else his father had brought with him. He could hear Adam and Stella’s voices as the group drew closer, then spotted the purple shape of Gaz’s hair. Of course.

“Oh my GOD,” Stella gasped, moving her flashlight sharply to the side. “What is THAT?”

“That’s Zim’s Voot cruiser,” came Gaz’s answer. “His space ship.”

“Holy fuck this is all real,” Adam muttered deadpan, following Stella towards the alien ship.

“No no no NO!” Zim’s voice crescendoed as he lept off of his tree branch, quicker than Dib could even register to stop him. 

“No touching my things!” the Irken shrieked as he bounded towards them. 

Dib hissed a swear as he watched Zim blow their cover. He leaned back against the main trunk of the tree and rolled his eyes. He could hear Stella and Adam exclaim in unison as Zim approached them. He continued his loud admonishments of the pair as he proceeded to jump on top of his cruiser and glare his buggy magenta eyes into their flashlights.

“Dib?” came Professor Membrane’s voice again. Gaz held a flashlight and shined it back where Zim had come running from. She guided the light up the trees until the glare of her brother’s glasses flashed in response.

Dib squinted at the bright light and held up his arm for shade. His dad walked up to the tree to look up at him, expression inscrutable behind those goggles and labcoat.

“Dib, you need to come home,” Fess said evenly. “It’s not safe out here.”

His eyes finally adjusted to the spotlight on his face, Dib lowered his arm. He eyed his dad and sister warily. “Why is this any different than all the other times you let me go hiking alone?”

“You know why,” the professor answered sharply. 

“I don’t think I do,” Dib retorted. His hands kept him balanced atop the tree branch, but he felt his nails digging into the bark. 

The boy continued, “I don’t think I know the ‘why’ of  _ any  _ of this.” He gestured towards the opened field that rested beyond the trees. “Why it’s suddenly ‘so dangerous’ for me to be out here. Why you never told me or Gaz about what happened. Why you let me think I was crazy and alone. Why  _ you lied _ .” Dib looked down pointedly at his dad’s face as he growled those last two words, then leaned back and shrugged at him dismissively. 

The man below continued to look up at Dib, barely moving save for that soft breeze lapping at the folds of his long white coat. The brief shine of a flashlight on his goggles indicated that Membrane had tilted his head slightly. As if observing and studying the boy in the tree.  _ His  _ boy. 

“Son,“ the professor began, voice level, “this isn’t a conversation we should be having out here.”

“So where then?” Dib retorted. “Back home? Where you can just lock yourself away in the basement for days? Or get called into work at any time? You’ll just push this whole thing by the wayside and leave me and Gaz in the dark again.”

“I won’t do that this time,” Fess’ voice carried the gentler tone of someone trying to bargain. “I promise.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Please, Dib,” the professor said, palms angled outwards in a show of humility. “I will tell you anything you want to know about your mom.  _ Anything _ .”

Dib was seemingly unmoved. “I think it’s too late for that, dad.” 

Fess blinked and felt the muscles below his eyes quiver with emotion once more. Too late, indeed. The professor swallowed at that worrying sentence, realizing the end result of his failure to deal with his trauma and grief in a healthy way. His son no longer trusted him, and his daughter seemed more bitter and apathetic every year. Professor Membrane’s fractious little family was hurting and writhing and unable to heal. 

And it was his fault. Again.

The professor shook his head and looked towards the base of the tree, losing the strength to keep his eyes angled upwards towards his son. He sighed to himself in guilt and defeat, unable to find the words he needed to respond to Dib. Behind him, he could practically feel the heat of the flashlight Gaz held, burning quietly into his back as if coaxing him for an answer. 

But there was none.

“It’s too late, dad.” Dib repeated with finality, though the weight in his voice wasn’t there.

“Speak for yourself, Dib,” came Gaz’s sharp voice.

Dib’s eyes darted towards her in response, and he clenched his teeth. “I  _ am  _ speaking for myself,” he countered. “Always. And it’s not like any of this affects  _ you _ one way or the other. Not really. You can just go back to playing your stupid video games and pretending like nothing’s wrong with this whole thing. All you ever need is pizza, games, and being the favorite kid anyway. It’s easy mode.”

Gaz’s eyes ignited with an injured fury. A familiar part of her mood wanted to run up that tree and thrash her brother for his insult. But another part, something new in her gut, grasped the sting of Dib’s words and froze her in her tracks. There was some truth to it, she realized. And she hated that fact. 

“Fuck you...” she muttered.

“Gaz!” Membrane hissed quietly at her, sending her icy stare towards her father. She grumbled inwardly and dropped the flashlight to the ground, turning on her heels and walking away towards Zim and the others.

Fess exhaled and shook his head, looking back up at Dib. “ _ That _ was unbecoming of you, son.”

“Then go take her home or whatever,” Dib flippantly waved his hand in Gaz’s direction. 

“Not without you.”

“I’m fine,” the boy bit back. “Zim has this entire  _ arsenal _ of walker drones just waiting in the bushes. Whatever’s coming won’t stand a chance.”

“You don’t know that,” the professor rebutted grimly. 

“I’m  _ pretty sure _ I’ve dealt with worse on my own.”

“That’s not a surety I am willing to test.”

“Then don’t.” Dib was practically impressing himself with his defiance, now. 

“Son-”

The breeze that whipped up then carried with it an eerie warmth. The trees around them rustled and wavered in response, but something was still off with how they moved.

It looked and felt like the air was pushing downwards.

“Sentries fire- no, WAIT!” Zim’s voice carried with the unnatural wind as a number of the Irken walkers emerged from the darkness, crawling like insects over and around the forest floor with mechanical speed. Adam and Stella could both be heard exclaiming in response, but their voices were swiftly drowned out by something else.

A torrid roll of superheated air climbed to a thunderous roar as something —  _ two _ somethings — dove into the nearby clearing with unsettling grace. The pair of black shapes, like giant raptors landing over prey, held their positions effortlessly amidst the cacophony of thunder and wind that they generated.

Dib practically flew out of his perch in the tree, his face pelted with pine needles and branches and the lapels of his own coat. He caught sight of several of Zim’s drones firing their payloads towards the shapes and then stopping suddenly as Zim screamed another order to cease. Why?

“GAZ!” Professor Membrane’s voice was resonant as ever despite the chaos surrounding him. Dib felt a terrible dread in his chest as he looked out into the clearing and at the giant black shapes that now occupied it.

He couldn’t hear her, but Dib could see the purple color of Gaz’s hair whipping about in the distance, illuminated by blinding white lights that were slowly erupting from both crafts. She seemed to be scrambling for a foothold on the ground, flanked by the shapes that were in that moment watching her every move. 

A larger light began to open up on one of the shapes, and Dib realized it as a doorway inside. As if in response, the boy scrambled frantically to make his way down the treetop, landing on his feet with a painful thud. 

A series of spindly, thorny appendages reached out of the bright new portal as Gaz was finally able to get to her feet. Following the limbs came some sort of creature attached to them — an assortment of points and curves like the chitin-covered shell of a giant insect. Dib watched helplessly as Gaz turned to see the thing bearing down on her, and with so many limbs it grabbed the small girl with lightning reflexes, like a trapdoor spider engulfing its prey.

Dib felt himself scream and his legs begin running mindlessly towards his sister’s captor as the thing stole back inside. His ears were deafened by the persistent noise of the wind and machinery; he barely registered when a pair of arms as strong as steel grabbed and held him fast at the edge of the clearing. He flailed and tried in vain to wrest himself from their grip, his eyes flooding with hysterical tears and his throat choked by dust. 

“No, Dib!” Fess shouted as he worked to get a firmer hold on his son. The boy fought with all of his strength against his father’s prosthetic vise, but the man’s grip tightened all the more and lifted the boy higher off the ground. 

Meanwhile, Zim’s sentries began to close in on the two mysterious ships. A few managed to crawl their way onto the crafts, firing energy beams into the surfaces to try and disable them. 

However as Zim’s drones continued their assault, the air around the black shapes began to ripple and distort, like heat radiating from a surface. An awful, roiling noise like an earthquake thrummed from the two ships as they shed the heated air in one great pulse, toppling the Irken drones to the ground in a series of smoking heaps.

Zim roared a curse and pulled an anti-air rocket from his cruiser, leaping to action in the clearing and training the weapon on one of the ships as they began an eerily noiseless ascent into the sky. The Irken grumbled to himself as he moved the launcher’s sights between the two ships, frantically trying to determine which to shoot down.

_ Fire, Zim! FIRE! Either one — you NEED ANSWERS. _

The Irken yelled incoherently at that voice in his head, which continued to roar in frustrated dismay.

Zim gritted his teeth and pointed the rocket at one of the ships, flicking the switch that sent the Irken payload careening into the sky. Dib froze in Membrane’s arms, watching Zim’s rocket chase after the intruders, uncertain of where it was truly aimed. All felt deathly quiet in the boy’s ears as he watched the rocket close in — closer, closer, closer…

One of the ships hitched in the sky — the one that didn’t have Gaz on board. It glowed a brief, electric blue as Zim’s rocket exploded against its surface, scattering pieces of red hot shrapnel and debris into the air. It began a graceless fall back to earth, visibly trying to right itself midair, but to no avail. 

As the damaged craft hit the earth with a chaotic burst of dust and fire, Dib and Professor Membrane watched the sky. The twin black ship climbed higher and higher into the night, quickly becoming an inscrutable and unreachable thing amongst the stars. 

Together, the boy and his father shared that terrible moment in stunned, horrified silence. 


	8. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously - hurtful words are exchanged, and a stunning loss as the mystery from space makes itself known

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change to M for violence! Enjoy :)

The first thing Dib did when his dad placed him back on the ground was to turn around and shove the man with all his might.

“Why didn’t you  _ do anything _ ?!” Dib practically screamed, his voice hoarse with anguish. He felt his fury burn even deeper when he noticed how little the man moved against his assault, like he was pushing against a solid, indifferent statue instead of his dad.

Frustrated, Dib grabbed at the fabric of Membrane’s coat and tried in vain to tear into it, to try and reduce this impenetrable figure into something low and helpless and weak. Like he was. 

But the labcoat didn’t give any easier than the man’s posture, so Dib let go and turned away, too devastated to notice how his father tried to reach out and touch him as he walked off. 

The boy took a few defeated steps onto the grass before collapsing to his knees. He buried his head in his hands as they clawed at his scalp, pulling at his own dark hair in aimless dismay. 

“Why did you hold me back?” Dib shook his head in his hands as he mumbled.

“Dib…” Membrane’s voice was gentle, but haggard.

“You just... _ stopped _ me...a-and  _ stood _ there. Why?” 

“Son, I had to.”

“I could have done something.  _ Something _ . I could have saved Gaz.”

“No, Dib,” the professor sighed. 

“Because you  _ stopped me _ !” Dib growled.

“Because I didn’t want  _ this _ to happen to you.”

Dib heard the man’s sterner tone and then the distinct snap of a fabric button behind him. He turned shakily to regard his dad. The professor stood over him, closer than he had expected, his head tilted downward as if in mourning. The collar of the professor’s labcoat was undone, revealing the details of his face in plain view. 

The angles of Membrane’s facial scars took on a sharp contour against the smoldering alien wreckage in the field. A splash of deep, dried gashes emerged from under the man’s collar and raced up the left side of his face. One line cut through his lips and bit into his nostril, leaving a distinct cleft in the skin. Another traced widely along his cheekbone and thinned out into a hairline, pockmarked ravine, barely noticeable as it disappeared under the professor’s goggles.

As if on cue, Professor Membrane slowly brought a hand to his eyewear and moved the lenses to rest atop his forehead, allowing his eyes to regard his son in bare, unguarded sadness. It was the same reticent, pained face from that morning in the kitchen. 

Dib had obviously seen his dad’s scars before, but never wondered at their origin; he assumed it was a result of one of the professor’s scientific pursuits gone wrong — always the priority for the world’s smartest man — and never thought beyond that. 

But now, with that crippled black ship embedded into the earth, and Zim’s once deadly drone army melted into slag in the background, Dib realized the truth to his father’s disfigurement. He thought of that strange distortion heating the air, the terrible pulse that sent the Irken drones flying, the distinct smell of melted electronics and steel. 

Dib swallowed, stared at his dad with exhausted eyes. His mind was awash in confusion; too many emotions — fear, anger, guilt, despair — warring for control. Dib felt his chest heave first before the tears fell from his eyes, and like that he became the young boy he was always trying to suppress. The actual child he was instead of the outcast, self-sufficient protector he usually played.

Just a kid. And it suddenly felt unbearable.

Dib turned his head away from his dad and tried to hide his sobbing in his hands. He couldn’t stop it, and the shame of that fact made him cry all the harder. 

“I was  _ so mean  _ to her…” he choked hoarsely. “And they  _ took _ her-”

“-Dib,” Professor Membrane crouched behind his son and brought a gloved hand to the boy’s back. 

“And it’s all my fault!” The boy’s body shook with a silent cry, and his hands clambered back up to his scalp to begin clawing and tearing at his hair again. But before he could draw blood or clumps of hair, a pair of firm hands grasped his and brought them away from his head.

“Dib, listen to me,” Fess said in a mellow tone.

But the child was still shaking his head wildly, mind still at work tormenting itself with guilt. “It’s my fau-”

“Listen.” The professor’s voice was sterner then, and he let go of Dib’s hands to clasp the boy’s face on both sides, steadying him.

“Look at me, son.”

Dib sniffed and tentatively lifted his eyes to regard his dad, who despite his larger frame had brought his face down to be closer to the boy’s. 

“This isn’t your fault, ok?” Membrane said every word with firmness. “You didn’t cause those creatures to take Gaz.”

Between his father’s hands, Dib’s face was puffy and reddened with shameful tears. The look in his eyes showed he wasn’t convinced. He truly believed that he had all the control and responsibility on his shoulders alone to protect his sister, and he failed. 

Dib swallowed again, shut his eyes tight and felt tears squeeze out and run down his cheeks, tracing the outlines of his father’s gloves that still held his face. 

“I hurt her feelings, and she-”

“-you didn’t send her out into that field.”

“Yeah but I-”

“You didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Dib.” Fess’ look was sympathetic,  _ human _ . “You’ve been hurt...badly. And you said some things that you didn’t mean. That’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

The boy sucked in a shaky, uncertain breath. “H-how? I can’t-”

“-this isn’t your responsibility, Dib. It’s mine.” 

Dib furrowed his brows but said nothing, tiredly blinking his wet eyes as he stared at his dad. There was still an air of doubt in the boy’s features, but Membrane brought his hands from Dib’s face down to his shoulders then, and felt him relax slightly. He watched his son silently for a few moments, his own sense of guilt being replaced with a dutiful concern. Gently, he pulled the boy into a hug, his large arms practically enveloping Dib’s little frame.

Fess felt his son’s body relax more, let his hand run through the boy’s disheveled hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he held Dib like this — just comforting his son from whatever childhood crisis ailed him. The realization threatened to drown the professor in guilt once again, thinking of all the times he imagined his son and daughter trying to survive and grow on their own. Their mother lost. And their father...buried under mountains of work, grief, trauma. 

Excuses. 

_ That has to stop _ .

Professor Membrane gripped Dib’s shoulders again and pulled away, looking down at the boy reassuringly. Dib sniffled and wiped at his eyes, somewhat tentative in meeting his father’s gaze. He seemed to have stopped crying, and was calmer in demeanor now, but there was a troubling unfamiliarity with being hugged by his dad like that. Fess knew, but accepted it for now. It would take work, and time, and patience for the father to reconcile with his son.

So long as it wasn’t, in Dib’s words, ‘already too late’...

“HAAAA HA HA HA HAAA...!” 

Zim’s shrill laughter was accompanied by the distinct whine of a laser blast. Bright violet light illuminated the surrounding trees and Membrane’s head darted to where the crashed ship still smouldered. Dib stood up in response, shaken back to reality and to the wreckage before them.

Another shot from whatever firearm Zim wielded burned forth and hit something within the ship. A disturbing, gurgling cry erupted from inside and the Irken spat in triumph. His antennae wavered as Adam and Stella approached from behind. He turned to regard them, feeling positively glorious as he held his rifle and felt his victim’s inky blood pool at his boots.

Stella, though, looked absolutely shellshocked; Adam’s glasses were askew, and he held his hands behind his head, looking upon the crumpled spacecraft in horrified awe. Zim huffed to himself and remembered — Gaz had been taken away by that other ship. This was probably an unfortunate turn of events for the humans. Heck, it wasn’t something Zim was happy about either. But he had a feeling she wasn’t in any immediate danger. Based on their track record, the Helconid took their prey alive.

_Yes..._ **that** _is sure to be reassuring, fool._

Zim rolled his eyes at the sarcasm, then hated himself for even listening to the increasingly obnoxious inner voice.

Heavy footsteps, accompanied by lighter, faster ones, caused Zim and the other two scientists to look away. Professor Membrane and Dib approached the group together, though Membrane made sure to keep a safe distance between the boy and the still-sparking and burning ship. Much to Dib’s chagrin. 

The Irken’s eyes met the professor’s briefly, and could see a flash of recognition there. Zim had tried to avoid direct encounters with the Dib-father up until now. He knew the particularly dangerous level of competence this one had, that would have undoubtedly ended Zim’s antics on Earth far sooner. Hell, it was said competence that likely aided in Dib’s survivability in the past, and Zim shuddered to think what could have happened to his mission had the Dib-father taken a more direct interest.

_ Good thing your mission went into the Florpus with the Massive then, eh? _

Zim gritted his razor teeth together at his thoughts. Was the inner voice getting...meaner?

“Oh god here comes another,” Stella’s voice was shaky and dulled by horror. It brought Zim out of his thoughts and he lifted his rifle up once more, soldier’s instincts taking hold. 

Up close, the creature indicated a more sinewy and humanoid form than its faraway silhouette had shown. It bounded through the broken space ship’s doorway on seemingly two limbs, bent backwards into quadrupedal hocks that propelled it with alarming speed. But as it drew closer to the group, a pair of double-jointed limbs sprang forth from what must have been the creature’s torso, stretching outwards into mantid scythes that dug into the floor like clay.

The thing — the helconid — propelled itself forward then with both sets of limbs, like a great cat lunging in for the kill. This was an act of desperation, Zim knew, but he was in no mood to toy with it at this time. Not even with an audience. The Irken aimed his rifle at the other alien’s head, a mandibled, beaky looking thing with horns at the back, and fired. 

The laser blast burned and evaporated what viscera had erupted forth and the body crumpled to the ground — a pile of oily black chitin and sinnew. The thing was easily seven feet in length, even without its head. Zim snorted to himself at how easy the creature was to bring down. Just like the one prior, and its entire ship. 

Almost too easy.

The Irken looked back at the humans behind him, antennae perked up. “I think there are a few more inside. Zim will take point.” The humans watched the small Irken gesture at some of the remaining sentries he had with him and they all crawled into the darkness of the broken ship. A small, deadly little clean up crew. 

Meanwhile, Fess approached the body of the newly slain alien with careful steps, followed closely by his son. Adam and Stella circled their way around the corpse as well, but were more than happy to allow Membrane to lead the observation. 

The professor crouched and brought his goggles back down onto his eyes and switched on the scanning software within, getting a quick read on the dead organism’s composition. Definitely a lot of chemical compounds he didn’t recognize; but there were familiar patterns as well.

“Internal skeletal structure is...non existent. It’s an invertebrate, at a glance.” Fess spoke so the others could hear. “The outer shell, cuticle is  _ like _ chitin but there’s more than just calcium carbonate here.” Membrane reached for one of the large scythe limbs and moved it slightly. He was surprised by its weight. “Forelimbs are solid. Looks like this one might have modified the blades; sharpened them.”

Adam stood where the body’s head used to be. “Too bad the green dude blew this one’s head off. And the other’s.” He brought a boot to the corpse and nudged at something. “Second pair of arms here,” he mused as the toe of his boot moved something into view.

Indeed, there was a pair of more humanoid limbs curled over the dead creature’s chest, armored like the rest of it, but tipped in long, spindly fingers. Fess nodded to himself as he continued to collect new details on the body. “Six limbs, then. Like a-”

“-Helconid,” Dib said behind them, voice hoarse and almost too quiet. He stared at the alien corpse, bewildered. “Zim says they’re called the Helconid.”

Fess stood up and looked at the boy. “What else does he know?”

Dib shook his head. “Not much. They’re as elusive to his kind as they are to us. But they’re dangerous...obviously.” He sniffed and shrugged, suddenly feeling very small.

Professor Membrane swallowed, about to say something else, when GIR came trodding into view from within the ship. The little robot was accompanied by a couple of the walking sentries, his blue eyes bright and amiable, despite the situation. 

“Master says it’s all clear!” the robot informed with a salute. “Except there’s ooooone left. And he wants  _ you _ to see!”

GIR gestured for them to follow. “Don’t worry! It’s safe.” 

The adults all looked at each other quizzically. They supposed that Zim had given them no reason to suspect treachery thus far, but the thought of entering an alien ship, however grounded and in pieces, wasn’t exactly appealing.

Adam was the first to shrug and walk inside, figuring he would not get another chance at something like this again. Stella shook her head to herself and followed, muttering something admonishing to Adam as they walked down the corridor, followed by one of the sentries and GIR’s giggling form. Dib began to walk after them, but found his dad’s hand stopping him.

Dib’s head shot up indignantly and he glared at the professor, ready to start arguing again. But the man’s head was still angled towards the Helconid corpses on the ground, and his jaw was tightened in thought. Uncertainty. It made the boy pause.

“These are the things that took your mother from me, Dib.” The man’s voice was uncharacteristically subdued. “And now your sister.” 

Dib frowned, looked back at the bodies and the weakening flames still lapping at the ship. He knew that! They needed to go after them. Now! NOW! Why was his dad hesitating? 

Dib’s frown deepened — why was  _ he  _ hesitating?

The boy felt his own jaw tighten, suddenly feeling a distinct knot of  _ something _ well up in his chest. It wasn’t the rage or the devastated guilt he had felt before. Or the strange thrill he used to get when chasing after Zim all those times. It was none of those things. But still dreadfully familiar.

Fear.

It caused Dib’s arms to tremble at his sides and his mouth strain in silence. The pain of not truly knowing what he faced, and unsure at how he could even succeed. The insecurity of seeing his own dad’s apprehension, and realizing the danger his sister was in — undefended and alone.

Like  _ he _ always was.

The boy swallowed and took a small step back, causing Membrane to turn and regard him. “I can’t let them take you too, Dib.”

Tempered by his unsettled feelings, the boy could no longer find the strength to argue. Instead he regarded his dad’s anxiety, and the dark passage into the ship, with newfound desperation.

“I-I don’t want to be left alone out here,” Dib said finally, subdued.

Professor Membrane’s brows furrowed atop his goggles and he ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, but  _ stay behind me _ .”

Dib nodded jerkily before falling in line behind his father. They both walked tentatively into crumpled Helconid ship without further words exchanged. Their steps were careful, quiet. As the darkness welcomed them they noticed odd strings of faint blue light running alongside the walls, giving everything a dim contour.

The bulk of the interior was different varieties of black and gray, highlighted by the blue lights and the occasional glow of burning material. Whatever substance the ship was made out of swirled and bent around itself almost organically, as if molded by hand out of some tarry wet clay. 

Dib and his father followed the faint sounds of Zim’s voice speaking low with Stella and Adam. Occasionally they’d pass what looked like a doorway and notice the telltale signs of Zim’s battle there — a few more Helconid corpses laid out in varying stages of death. Dib noticed the heads on some of them, in the dark. But he kept close pace with his father and was unable to catch any more detail.

Until they rounded a corner.

Zim stood at the far end of what looked like the cockpit of the ship, which was adorned with strange looking seats and panels of buttons and unknown symbols. The irken was flanked by the two other scientists, and they both turned to regard Professor Membrane and Dib with uneasy faces.

Zim’s magenta eyes looked towards the late arrivals and stepped to the side, revealing what was behind him. Crumpled against the controls, half slumped to the ground, was one of the creatures that had up until now either escaped to the stars or died gruesomely. It’s limbs were sprawled and every which way, and the torso rose and fell in slow, spasmodic movements.

Professor Membrane approached the creature slowly, tempering his anger at the thing with curiosity as he finally got a good look at its face. Hard black plate similar to the rest of the body formed the diagonal shape of a mouth and chin, flanked by large mandibles. The head plate then sloped upwards and back into a crest, which seemed to guard a leathery sac hanging over the base of the neck. 

The creature’s narrow, bone-yellow eyes seemed half-lidded and dazed, a nictating membrane sliding lazily across them whenever the thing heaved an agonized breath. A pair of large, feather-like antennae sprang from behind the eyes, but they hung limply. 

The helconid sucked in a rattling, unseemly breath as Professor Membrane drew closer. He noticed a wound seeping with yellow ichor, staining what looked like a beard of bristles coming from under the alien’s chin. 

Overall, the creature looked positively animal.

“It hasn’t spoken,” Zim said.

“ _ Can _ it speak?” Membrane glanced at the Irken quizzically.

“Of course.” The rattly, growling voice felt heavy and thick, causing everyone to jump and turn to regard the dying thing. The helconid’s mandibles were parted now into its facsimile of a smirk, and its eyes seemed to stare directly at Fess. 

Everyone fell still, save for the creature itself and Membrane, who took another step closer. He crouched in front of the Helconid then and narrowed his eyes. “Where did that other ship go?”

“Home.” The word rumbled out of the helconid’s mouth like a clot.

The professor sneered, annoyed. “Where did they take my daughter?”

“Same place as the last one.”

Fess felt his ire, bolstered by urgency, erupt from within. He lifted his hand and pushed his palm against the creature’s muzzle, feeling the circuitry and plasma within whine faintly to life. “Where?!”

The helconid seemed unfazed by the sudden contact, merely grunting as its body shifted under the pressure. Oddly, the grunt was followed by a strange series of breaths. Was the creature...laughing? 

“Ahhh...so  _ you’re _ the human, eh?” It choked out another sardonic chuckle. “Sorry about the face.”

Membrane heard Stella gasp under her breath; Adam muttered some sort of curse. The professor realized then that this creature must have been there last time — years ago, when his nightmare had started. The play-by-play of that horror and the pain that followed made Fess tighten his grip on the creature’s beak-like face. 

He tried to ignore the small bit of pleasure he felt as the creature’s shell seemed to crack. “You were- you took Claire too. From me. Why?”

The helconid strained under the pressure of the human’s grip, one of its legs jerking forward in pain. “We thought...we thought it was just  _ you _ .”

Fess’ grip weakened at that, confusion quickly turning to stunned realization. 

Relieved by the lapse in pain, the helconid allowed itself to smile at the human’s shock. “We just wanted  _ you _ .  _ Membrane _ .” It spoke the name with unwelcome familiarity, despite the guttural inflections in its throat that made it sound like some alien curse. “ _ We still do. _ But I suppose your spawn will have to do for now.”

The professor shook his head in disgust and tightened his hand against the creature’s face again. As the helconid jerked and growled and hissed feebly under his grip, Fess barely moved, eyes looking forward blankly as he crushed the alien’s face in numbed loathing.

When the alien went limp, Professor Membrane released his hand and shook the fluxion from his glove. He gave the dead creature one more baleful stare before turning to meet the grim looks of his colleagues and of Dib. Zim, on the other hand, looked somewhat gleeful at the grisly sight, hands clasped together like an excited child’s.

Membrane’s jaw was tightened and he made heavy, calming breaths. His eyes fell on Dib’s face, who’s eyes moved from the dead helconid’s up to his father’s. Suddenly unable to speak, Fess brought his clean hand up to his collar and refastened it around his neck and face, then turned to regard the controls of the strange alien cockpit.

“Professor, what are you going to do?” Stella took a step forward, concerned.

“I need to get Gaz back,” Fess answered tersely.

“How?” 

“This ship.” He was already in the midst of taking in the patterns and symbology of the dashboard, identifying features and their likeliest roles. The helconid were on the whole fully organic and manual creatures, using their own hands and kinetic energy to operate the ship. It wouldn’t take long for Membrane to get a decent understanding himself.

“Again,” Stella’s voice was impatient. “How?”

“It’s salvageable,” Zim’s head perked up, his antennae twitching as the tall Dib-father turned to regard him. “I’ve had my scanners operating in here since it crashed. There’s significant damage, but I can get it to fly again. We’ll need its navigator to chase after the other ship anyway.”

The irken felt all eyes on him then, and for some strange reason, felt that unpleasant sensation of being scrutinized bear down on his head. The Dib-father —  _ Membrane _ — took some steps toward the alien and looked down at him. Zim stood his ground, though standing before this imposing figure was like facing a Tallest who was much more serious and dour. He resisted the urge to bow his head in reverence.

“You’re the one who weaponized my Membracelets,” Fess mused, one brow arched. “ _ And _ the one who’s been in constant conflict with my son. Until recently.”

Zim swallowed, bulbous eyes darting around the room. “Uhh, yes. Yes! ‘Tis I! Merciful Zim! Who has spared your son and your planet from the DOOM of my invasion!”

Dib rolled his eyes, about to say something when GIR’s metal head popped out from a grate in the ceiling. “But master, you’re not an invader anymore! The Tallests were eated and now there’s no mission, remember?”

A low growl rumbled out of Zim’s mouth and he gritted his teeth. He was about to admonish GIR’s big mouth before Professor Membrane spoke again. “I’ve about had my fill of alien encounters this past hour,” he said, shaking his head tiredly. “You’ve proven your willingness to help thus far, but why continue? This isn’t necessarily your problem.” 

Zim regarded the human for a moment before frowning to himself, remembering all the strange fragments of information he’d plucked from Irken archives about the helconid. He needed to know more about them, their legendary history with Irk, the supposed latent power they had at their disposal.

_ And if any of it could be used to save the Armada... _

Zim grimaced at that truth. Yes, he owed the Tallest and his fellow Invaders the effort to release them, if it was even possible. But what good would that do for him? He’d undoubtedly be in enormous trouble once-

The Irken twitched suddenly as his PAK emitted a jolt of electricity through his spine. It  _ hurt _ , somewhat. Zim looked around the room at the others and was relieved that they didn’t seem to notice. He looked back at Professor Membrane and shrugged.

“The helconid have...tech and knowledge that could be useful to me. I would chase after them anyway so...” Zim tried to read the attitude of the professor’s face, but he was never good at understanding the emotions of humans, “...I feel it’s the... _ sensible _ choice to also offer to try and rescue the Gaz-sister too. And your...mother...?”

“Wife,” Membrane corrected. He brought a hand to his temple and rubbed at it thoughtfully, forgetting that it was still covered in bits of the helconid’s viscera. He idly wiped it away and then nodded with finality. “I can work with that. We should act quickly, though, and get this perimeter secured from unwanted eyes.”

“Ooohhh I can get my tools!” Zim said gleefully. “ _ And _ I have some cloaking tech that will hide us from any snoopy, dumb human eyes.”

Fess arched an eyebrow at the Irken. “Well I  _ was  _ going to call in our covert ops security team for this, but the less involved the better.”

Zim’s giddiness at being useful took over his darker thoughts then. “GIR! We’re getting the mobile base. Let’s go!”

From inside the ceiling GIR shrieked excitedly. His metallic steps could be heard running back down the hall and outside as Zim followed after him. Adam and Stella both watched the alien scurry away and then looked back at the professor.

“You’re really going to go up into space with that thing?” Adam asked, still somewhat shellshocked from earlier.

“I don’t have a choice,” Membrane replied.

Stella sighed and suppressed a frown. “This is insane...a-and what about-” she didn’t finish her sentence, instead opting to tilt her head towards Dib, who had been standing quietly as these decisions had been made around him. He caught Stella’s nod and then looked over at his dad, suddenly fearful.

“Please don’t leave me,” the boy’s voice shook slightly at that admission of weakness. But he couldn’t help it. He lost his mom and then Gaz and now his dad was going to leave him behind too. He couldn’t stand the thought, no matter how distant his father had been in the past. 

He was all Dib had left.

Fess let out a heavy breath, nodding towards his friends in a wordless signal to leave the cockpit. Adam and Stella walked quietly out, whispering their uncertainties to each other. When they were alone Fess stepped over towards Dib, who suddenly reached out for the man’s hand.

“Mom has been gone for so long,” Dib whispered. “And now Gaz. I...I don’t want to be alone.” Dib found himself gripping the professor’s glove tightly, like it was the railing at a precipice. His eyes were wide and desperate. “Let me come with you. Please. I’ll be quiet, I won’t talk about cryptids or argue with Zim or anything. I just-  _ please _ -”

“-Dib…” Fess’ voice held a sad note as he crouched next to his son and gripped the boy’s hands in his own. They were so small. He found himself looking at the size difference for a few moments longer; memories of them being even tinier when Dib was a baby made the man’s chest tie into new knots. 

Dib swallowed and continued, “I won’t disappoint you. I’ll do whatever you-”

Fess raised his other hand to get Dib to quiet down. He let out a deep, apprehensive sigh. “I need you to stop talking like that, son.” 

Dib’s face began to contort into a distraught grimace.

Membrane’s voice became reassuring. “Because none of what you just said is  _ bad _ , Dib. I don’t want you to be quiet, or stop talking about cryptids or monsters or whatever else interests you. I don’t necessarily understand it all, but...it makes you happy. And I want you to be happy.”

The boy felt some of his dread dissipate at his father’s words, but the worry of being left behind still lingered.

“I also want you to be  _ safe _ ,” the professor continued. “I can’t, in good conscience, allow you to come with me. It’s just too risky, Dib.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He felt new tears welling up in his eyes, flooding his vision and blinding him with that stark sense of loneliness he hated. He jerked his hands out of Fess’ one and stalked off, ignoring his dad’s voice trying to beckon him back.

_ Just try and stop me, dad. _


End file.
